The Calendar Club
by anonymouth
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts after the war is over to sit her final exams. She decides that the Wizarding world is in desperate need of some lightening up, and comes up with a novel idea. Perhaps some light romance also. Based on a challenge...
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so...I just found this charming story, Calendar Witches, with this challenge attached to it, issued by Sphinxey. **

**Although I am supposed to be writing my dissertation, this idea now refuses to leave me be (hey, what's 2000 words between a student and her degree?). I've posted the terms of the challenge below, as they appear in Sphinxey's story.**

**Hope you like, please review.**

**And although it's my first ever Harry Potter fic, I couldn't help a natural bias towards HG/MM. Hope you don't mind!**

**Naturally, though unfairly, I own not a single character etc etc.**

**(I have also never seen The Calendar Girls, though I find the story heartwarming, so even I don't know if the quotes are correct!)**

**Calendar Challenge**

I wrote this challenge after seeing 'Calendar Girls' for the second time, and having written down some interesting lines that I thought could be related to Harry Potter. It was nearly midnight at the time, so please excuse any mistakes.

The Calendar Challenge:

I challenge anyone interested to write a Hogwarts version of Calendar Girls. It must include a nude calendar and the following characters and plot devices:

McGonagall, Hermione, Ginny, Trelawny, Sprout and Pomfrey must all feature in the calendar.

McGonagall must either be with, or have been with Dumbledore.

An international tea tray competition must be held.

These lines must feature:

"I had no idea broccoli could be so intriguing."

"Now, can anyone see my nipples?"

"That's easy to say when you've got your knickers on!"

"I'm (however many) years old. If I'm not gona get 'em out now, when am I?"

"We're going to need considerably bigger buns."

"Don't tell me, someone's grown a u shaped marrow!"

Feel free to adjust any words to make them more appropriate, but please keep the gist the same.

Extra points if you include:

"No matter what you think of the idea, you're looking at January!"

"Bra's off to avoid strap marks."

"Dumbledore didn't see me naked until the spring of '56." Said McGonagall. "What happened in the spring of '56?" asked (insert name). "There was a newt in the shower bucket at (insert place here)." replied McGonagall

"And the carrot?"

"And here is (insert name) to lead us through the world of rugs." She pauses to listen to the person next to her. "No, I stand corrected; it's on all forms of carpeting."

"Thank god," said Hermione, "I thought it might be boring."

"You're nude in the (insert paper) dear."

"One minute the dressing gown was on, the next it was just me and the hat!"

"10 grams of oregano. The only thing that'd be dangerous in is a quiche!"

"It's no big deal. We've all got the same bits, just in different sizes."

"I know for a fact that (insert name)'s coming from (insert place) with their collection of tea towels."

They must raise somewhere in the region of six hundred thousand galleons.

**What follows is my attempt...**


	2. Recruitment

**Sorry for the crappy title, but my imagination is worn out!**

Hermione Granger, now eighteen years of age, had returned to Hogwarts, determined to gain her N.E.W.T's even though she had recently been dubbed by the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix, and The Daily Prophet as the most intelligent witch of her generation, and had been told by numerous ghosts and portraits that she was the most gifted witch of her age they had seen since Minerva McGonagall had been a student. Qualifications were important, she mused, as she made her way back to her room that she shared with Ginny Weasley. But more than that, she was stalling for time, having no idea what she wanted to do now that she didn't have to help save the world, capture dark wizards and find time to study. Truth was, since the end of the war, Hogwarts was the only place she felt comfortable. She knew that she couldn't rely on it forever, but for the moment, it was her own little sanctuary, something that she knew others who had been involved in the war were still trying to find. With attending lessons not being compulsory for her, she spent a lot of the time in the library or in Professor McGonagall's private study, reading, researching and writing theories for charms, healing, and transfiguration.

It was during a particularly rainy day in November, researching the link between depression and dark magic, that the thought came to her. Though life had moved on, there was still an element missing from it, as if someone had put the jigsaw together wrong, but couldn't find the mistake. Re-reading the paragraph she was on, she realised now what it was. No one laughed anymore. Not the polite laugh, or the obligatory laugh, but actual, tear-streaming, muscle-straining _laugh _laugh. People were afraid, she thought, because laughter and enjoyment meant that you had moved on, which meant that you had forgotten. Irrational, she knew, but the truth often was. They – Hogwarts, the staff and students; the Ministry; hell, the whole Wizarding community – needed _something _to break the ice that had settled over it. She flicked absentmindedly through the magical book, and through the pages of her muggle collection of books on psychological illnesses, until suddenly she stopped and frantically flicked back a few pages.

_There. S_he thought, a grin spreading from ear to ear as she took in the title of the picture **(Calendar Girls, overcoming grief and tragedy, extending laughter, love and hope throughout the world.)**

_That's it._

Armed with her books, parchment and internet connection that she had miraculously been able to tenuously set up in Hogwarts, she got to planning.

* * *

Madam Hooch, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Trelawney, Ginny and Molly Weasley, Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout all stood in the hallway of the third floor corridor, awaiting the arrival of one Hermione Granger, who had owl-ed them all at some absurd time of night, requesting that they all meet in this random place as soon as dinner was finished in the Great Hall the next evening. Molly Weasley had apparated outside the Hogwarts wards and had Minerva McGonagall meet her at the entrance gates, unsure how she would explain to the new headmaster of her reason for visiting, when she herself had no clue. Just as they were about to send Ginny looking for her, Hermione came hurtling round the corner, nearly colliding with all of them.

"Sorry sorry sorry," she panted. "Research." She began to pace past a particular place in the corridor, and as the members of staff shared concerned glances, and Molly was on the verge of insisting that Hermione return to The Burrow, a huge wooden door appeared in the middle of the wall.

"Well I never." Molly gasped.

Ginny suppressed a giggle as Professor Trelawney gingerly reached out with trembling fingers, only to jerk them back, as if a vortex of hell had just opened up in front of her.

"Come on in then." Hermione said brightly, opening the door and leading the way into a room that looked as if it had been waiting for them the whole time. Just the right amount of comfortable seating, enough tea, biscuits and cold drinks, and one suspiciously amber looking bottle that Professor Trelawney immediately noticed, and with a surprisingly steady hand this time, Ginny thought, picked up and stashed in her robes.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement, for those of you that have not been here before." Hermione began as they all settled down.

"Now, I've been thinking recently-"

"What's new?" Ginny asked, her voice torn between admiration and exasperation. "I think I can even hear your brain whizzing when you sleep!"

The occupants of the room chuckled, before looking again at Hermione.

"Yes, well...I had an idea last night, about a fundraiser. For St. Mungo's, I thought, seeing as we all know too well the extraordinary work that they do, and I don't think any of us can say that we don't know of one person who has passed through there in recent years."

She quieted for a moment as all thoughts turned to the war that had recently blown their lives apart.

"Well anyway, it occurred to me that it should be something...different. Something quirky. Something that people can talk about; no, more than that, something that people can laugh about, and not be scared to laugh about."

Ginny piped up quietly.

"No one laughs anymore. People hardly smile. It's like, if you do, you might break this bubble that we think we're living in, and either the darkness will come back, or everything will return to normal, and nobody could deal with either of those things."

Molly patted Ginny on the shoulder and drew her towards her. Ginny rested her head on her mother's knee from her position on the floor.

"She's right." Madam Poppy Pomfrey chimed in, sighing. "And even the Minister himself can't order people to laugh."

"Exactly." Hermione interjected, before the conversation got too maudlin. "Which is why we need...something to break the bubble gently. Show that it's ok. Laughing doesn't mean forgetting. But remembering doesn't mean that you have to be sad all the time. So...I believe that all of you gathered here now are the ones that can help me to accomplish this."

"How?" Professor Minerva McGonagall asked, genuinely intrigued. Since Hermione had come back to Hogwarts, she had been treated more as a student teacher than a student, even offering extra help to students as a classroom assistant, but as intelligent as she was, Minerva could see no plausible way that they could cheer up the entire Wizarding world.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"Calendar Girls." She said, then kicked herself when she drew a sea of blank looks. "A naked calendar shoot. Us. In time for Christmas." She kicked herself again at her lack of elocution. A host of raised, furrowed and unmoving eyebrows met her stare.

"Well?"

Madam Pomfrey, taking pity on the girl, leant forward a little in her chair.

"I think we're going to need a little more to go on, Hermione dear." She said with a smile that Hermione couldn't help feel was patronising.

"There was this group of muggle women who decided to do a naked calendar because one of their friends had cancer. It became inspirational; not only did they raise thousands – millions by now, probably, because it became a best-selling film and play – but it cheered people up; it spread a message of friendship, of love. And laughter. They got naked; people got hope."

She gave them a few moments to digest, willing herself to stand still and not shuffle nervously. She saw Molly nodding her head, slowly at first, then more vigorously.

"Yes," she said firmly. "Yes. It's wonderful, Hermione. I'm in."

Ginny looked at her mother, shocked. Granted, the reasoning behind the idea was excellent but...did her _mother _really have to be involved?

"Mum!" she exclaimed. "But, it's _naked!_" she hissed, her eyes darting to the other occupants of the room, who were watching the interplay with mirth slowly building in their faces.

"Yes dear." Molly replied nonchalantly. "I must say, the idea is quite thrilling. I daresay I'm quite looking forward to it."

"But...but that easy to say now, when you've got your knickers on!"

If possible, Ginny's face grew redder, now clashing excellently with her hair, as the thought of seeing her mother...everyone else seeing her mother..._naked_...flitted unwillingly through her mind. The rest of the room guffawed, with the exception of Professor Trelawney, who merely looked rather bemused. Hermione interrupted before the famous Weasley temper took hold.

"Yes, Ginny, you will be naked, but people won't be able to see all of you. For instance," her brain whizzed as she thought of plausible situations. "Your mum could be photographed in the kitchen with buns hiding her...you know..."

"Buns?" offered Madam Rolanda Hooch, smiling at Hermione's blush.

"Yes, exactly. And you could be on a broom with...oh I don't know..."

"A couple of bludgers?" suggested Molly, the two women clearly enjoying themselves now.

"Count me in, too." Hooch said firmly. "Now, we need to think of scenarios that everyone else can fit into..."

"Now hold on!" Minerva McGonagall, uncharacteristically silent so far, spoke up. "The rest of us haven't actually agreed to anything..."

"Well I think that it's an admirable idea. I can't think of anything else that could be quite so...attention grabbing." Pomona Sprout piped up, causing Minerva to pin her with a steady glare.

"I'm in, too." She met Minerva's glare with a steady, challenging one of her own.

"Well if everyone else is," Sybil Trelawney chimed in. "The tea leaves do not inform me of any harm that could come from it."

"That'll be the firewhiskey you mixed in with it." Minerva mumbled, causing Ginny to giggle.

"Great!" Hermione beamed. "And Ginny, you go without saying, being my creative director and all. So that just leaves you, Professor."

Minerva McGonagall blanched as seven pairs of eyes were directed at her.

"Well, I mean, the idea and your enthusiasm is admirable, really, but...what I mean is...isn't there someone...younger?" she finished lamely. Hermione took a moment to marvel at the usually stoic and brave Gryffindor stumbling over her embarrassment.

"Oh, come on, Minerva!" Rolanda Hooch said, exasperated. "Live a little! It's for a good cause, and besides...it's not like no one's ever seen you naked, is it?"

Minerva McGonagall, for the first time that Hermione could remember, blushed. Actually _blushed. _She seemed unable to form a response, so Molly Weasley interjected.

"Well of course not. I mean, Dumbledore..."

Minerva had apparently gathered enough about herself to get her blush under control and fix Rolanda Hooch with a particularly deathly 'Professor' stare.

"Albus himself did not see me naked until the spring of '56." She said quickly, and almost immediately covered her mouth with her hand. In a very Muggle, very Scottish manner, her brain came up with only one response. _Shit._

"What happened in the spring of '56?" Molly Weasley asked, intrigued. Although a select few knew that the Transfiguration Professor and the Headmaster had enjoyed a...dalliance...no one knew the exact details.

Minerva sighed, and completely uncharacteristically, blushed again.

"There was a newt in the shower bucket at his holiday residence. A very...slippery newt. The resulting escapades were quite...inventive."

At the startled gasps that went through the room, Minerva slyly met a few pairs of eyes.

"We were all young once, Miss Weasley. And Hermione...do close your mouth, before I am forced to demonstrate said ingenuity when you catch flies." She sat back in her seat, her green eyes sparkling as Hermione turned crimson. Molly was the first to break through the roars of laughter, her intrigue shining through her eyes.

"So you and him...you..."

"Yes, Molly. Albus and I had sex that time. And many times after. Though I am glad to say that that was the first and only time that an animal became used as a form of foreplay."

Ginny Weasley almost turned green and covered her ears with her hands.

"I may be nearly of age, but there are some things that I should NOT be subjected to...LALALALALA...thank God lessons are nearly over...LALALALALA...finished yet?" she yelled out, gingerly opening one eye to see the occupants of the room holding back laughter at her expression.

"Quite." Minerva stated

"So come on, Minerva. This will be a laugh. As long as it doesn't end up like the summer of '69, huh?" Rolanda Hooch tried to keep a straight face as she met the furious embarrassment in Minerva's eyes.

"What the heck happened in '69?" Molly asked, almost falling out of her chair she leaned that close to McGonagall. Hermione looked to the Professor, all at once horrified, mystified and intrigued. After seven years of knowing the woman, she knew that she had only ever seen the teacher persona, yet somehow she had always found it impossible to imagine her as anything else, with anyone else. Absurdly, she found herself feeling slightly jealous of the headmaster, and slightly dreading what was coming next.

With a resigned sigh, Minerva again blushed to her roots.

"I found that whilst Albus was...inventive...he lacked certain...assets that witches can put to very good use-"

"Especially taking into account the year number." Rolanda added with a wink

Molly gasped.

"So you..." she looked wildly from Minerva, who looked as though she wanted to transfigure a black hole in the floor, to Rolanda Hooch, who was wiping tears from her face, to Sybil Trelawney, who's eyes were flicking madly to look first over, then through her glasses, to Hermione, who looked, strangely enough, slightly devastated. "You shagged..."

"LALALALALALALALALALA!" Ginny sat on the floor; eyes clamped shut, hands firmly over her ears, rocking her little body to block out the rest of her mother's sentence, which, thankfully enough for many parties remained unfinished.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Hermione tutted, and hit Ginny none too gently on the side of the head. "So you'll do it?" she asked Minerva, her eyes sparkling intently.

Minerva again sighed resignedly.

"It's no big deal, Professor. We've all got the same bits, just in different sizes."

"Oh, apparently she already knows that." Molly interjected, as she sat back and crossed her arms and legs, unable to keep the twinkle from her eyes, and chuckling lightly at Ginny's loudly groaned '_Muuuum!'_

With a death look aimed at Molly this time, Minerva straightened her back resolutely.

"Very well then, Hermione. If we are to be getting naked together, I suggest you call me Minerva."

A squeal of excited 'yay's' went up through the gathering, and Rolanda Hooch patted her on the back, before adding, in an exaggerated whisper.

"Didn't you say that to someone back in '71?"

* * *

**Well, do you like it, do you like it?**

**Also, funnily enough, I just read up on the original Calendar Girls after writing this, and found that one woman "who only came to the meetings if there was a good speaker" got enlisted. Kinda reminded me of Trelawney! Sorry...it is quite late!**


	3. Preparation

Minerva McGonagall swept into the hospital wing the next day, her robes swishing elegantly behind her as she moved through the wing, searching for Madam Pomfrey. She found the woman in her office, back to the door, mumbling to herself.

"Poppy, I just..."

When the matron turned around, Minerva gasped and staggered backwards a little. She leaned on the doorframe, unwilling to stare yet unable to remove her eyes.

"What on earth are you _doing_?"

Poppy seemed entirely unfazed by the presence of the Gryffindor head of house as she calmly slotted her arms back through her tunic, and covered her breasts.

"Bra's off to avoid strap marks. I was just seeing if I could give them a little magical lift."

At Minerva's blankly incredulous look, she rolled her eyes and elaborated.

"For the calendar? I want a blemish-free shot. Well, I don't want any added marks or wrinkles, anyway. So I'm keeping tight clothing to a minimum until the photo is taken."

Almost against her will, Minerva's eyes shot to Poppy's thighs. The matron laughed loudly.

"Oh, Minerva. Don't be so prudish. After all, we know what _you_ did last summer...well, _those_ summers, anyway." With a wink. "I'm wearing knickers. After all, I don't expect _that much_ to be showing in the calendar. But I'm 65 years of age. If I'm not gonna get 'em out now, when am I? Now," and with a shrug and a flick of a strand of hair, she was back to the no nonsense Hogwarts nurse. "What can I help you with?"

Minerva blanched.

"Erm...staff meeting. Before dinner." And as dignified as she could manage, she hastily fled.

* * *

As she reached her rooms, she was surprised to see Hermione stood at the entrance waiting for her.

"How long have you been here?" she asked as she led the way through to her office.

"Not long," Hermione lied. In truth, she had been waiting to see Minerva for the best part of an hour, but knew that if she left, she wouldn't pluck up the courage to seek her out again.

They both sat on the sofa and a tray of tea and biscuits almost immediately appeared in front of them. Hermione was unsure what exactly to say, so she instead began on neutral ground.

"I saw Professor Trelawney earlier. One of the third years told Ginny that she'd been acting strangely during their lesson this morning."

At Minerva's arched brow, she failed to suppress a grin. "More strangely than usual, then. I thought I better pay her a visit, in case she was worrying about this calendar business."

Hermione began to giggle, and at the confused look on Minerva's face, descended into outright laughter.

"Oh, Minerva!" she managed to gasp out. "She was...floating around the room...I mean, arms outstretched, incense burning, scarves flying...really floating around the room..."

Minerva felt the sides of her mouth twitch.

"Well yes, whilst I know that Sybil can be...eccentric, I doubt that this is news to you, so I fail to see it as hysteria-inducing."

Hermione wiped her cheeks, and took a deep breath, laughter still evidently bubbling in her throat.

"When she saw me, she dived for her little table, screeching '_you saw nothing! Nothing!' _So I was really concerned so I went over to see what she was trying to hide. She managed to...to push everything off the desk, and...and trip over a crystal ball, and...and a little bag came flying out of her hand." Hermione dissolved again, leaving Minerva exasperated, but beginning to chuckle lightly at the other woman's obvious mirth.

"And?" she prompted eventually.

"She started crying, sobbing that it was only once, to calm her nerves, she would never take drugs, she didn't need them, bad for her all-seeing eye and all that! But...she was floating around the room thinking she was high on cannabis leaf!"

At this, Minerva's brow furrowed.

"Hermione, whilst her behaviour is funny at the best of times, I can't condone the use of drugs by anyone, not even if they could do with the excuse. It's...dangerous, both for her and pupils."

Inexplicably, Hermione burst out laughing again, and patted Minerva's hand with her own.

"Minerva...the bag...it was 10 grams of oregano. The only thing that'd be dangerous in is a quiche!"

Minerva blinked, then burst out laughing, a genuine, laugh-out-loud laugh.

"If the parents knew half!" She gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.

Hermione sobered as she watched Minerva. She thought the older woman beautiful when she laughed. Beautiful when she smiled. She wondered if Dumbledore had made her laugh, or some other witch; how many times...she shook her head.

"Anyway, Minerva, I thought I better come to check that you weren't having some sort of breakdown at the thought of the calendar, too, since I know that you have more wits about you to be able to recognise drug from herb? "

Minerva took a deep breath, expelling the last vestiges of laughter from her body, though still left with a smile on her face.

"I must admit the thought leaves me...anxious, although it is for a good cause. And as Rolanda so effectively pointed out, it wouldn't be the first time I've been naked in the presence of another."

Hermione blushed faintly at the memory of that meeting.

"Yes, well...good job I'm not your student anymore, goodness knows how I'd have been able to transfigure a newt into a prince without turning scarlet. Although I'd go easy on Ginny for a while, if I were you."

Seeing Minerva blush and groan faintly, Hermione covered her hand with her own.

"It's ok." She said quietly. "I just think it makes you more attractive. Not the newt thing, the un-teacher thing." Hermione's eyes widened at what she had just said, so she moved quickly on. "Are you really ok with it, then, because I've already got a vague idea for your scene? I was thinking something to do with transfiguration, obviously, and books, and Gryffindor...perhaps an office scene, with strategically placed books, and you transfiguring to your animagus self, then back again, with perhaps something else transfigured as a lion...perhaps evoking the thought of a lion tamer?"

Minerva looked thoughtful, and then although her features didn't change, Hermione could have sworn the professor was smirking.

"Perhaps, Hermione, we could be in the scene together. Transfiguring to an animal is not all that difficult, and I think you would be quite the majestic lion, or perhaps even a very formidable lion tamer. Or a cat whisperer." She added lightly. Hermione caught stormy green eyes, that held a twinkle of mischief, but also...something Hermione couldn't quite define but she knew was present in her eyes, too.

"Thank God," Hermione breathed. "Because I was beginning to think this might be boring."

She ran her thumb quickly and lightly along Minerva's cheek, flashed the brightest smile, before leaving Minerva's office. Minerva blinked, shook her head, but then her face erupted with the biggest un-teacher-like grin, making her appear more cat-like than she ever had as an animagus.

* * *

**Please review...thanks to the people that have so far, glad that you like :)**

**And yes, I do realise that it's frogs that turn into princes, not newts. but for the purposes of continuity, and my sanity, let's abandon tradition for now!**

**Next up...rehearsals ;)**


	4. Rehearsal: Sprout

They met up the next evening to discuss scenes and various planning problems. Hermione had already approached _The Daily Prophet_ with a business plan outlining their idea and the money that they hoped to raise, and was now eagerly awaiting confirmation of their sponsorship. Now all that was left to do was get the recruits organised.

"Ok, so does everyone agree that Professor Sprout's scene should be in the garden?" Hermione asked, to which there were general murmurs of consent.

"Don't tell me someone's grown a U-shaped marrow?" asked Madam Rolanda Hooch innocently enough from her corner, until everyone turned to face her, then she raised her eyebrows suggestively and aimed her gaze at the Herbology professor's thighs.

"Wha-oh." Hermione blushed. "Well...I mean...of course there are other...things." she finished lamely. Ginny Weasley chuckled at Hermione's embarrassment.

"And besides," Pomona Sprout interjected. "Do you expect me to stand in the garden showing off my bush for all the students to see?"

At this, Ginny openly guffawed, and Hermione spluttered.

"For goodness' sake!" Ginny piped up, saving her friend from further blushes. "Are we or are we not in the Room of Requirement?"

At her voice, the room transformed into a perfect replica of the Hogwarts garden.

"Great!" Hermione clapped her hands together. "Come on then!"

Professor Sprout reluctantly got to her feet. "Are we shooting now?"

"No," Hermione said. "We're waiting for the sponsorship from _The Prophet _to be finalised before we hire the camera and things. Think of it as a practice run."

Professor Sprout rolled her eyes, but nevertheless went to sit on a small patch of grass next to a variety of plants and vegetables.

"Clothes?" Hermione interjected.

"It's a practice!" Sprout huffed. "And I've had plenty of practice taking my clothes off, thank you."

Another round of laughter spread throughout the room.

"Fine, alright. We'll just place objects in front of where they should be if you were naked, then."

While Hermione had the intellect and organisational skills to pull the idea off, she lacked the creativity and dramatic flair needed to make the scenes stand out. This was left to Ginny and – against Hermione's better judgement – the mischievous Madam Hooch. They set to work, the rest of the room marvelling at how easily the two worked together; only a glint from one pair of eyes to another, or a twitch of the mouth from one, was needed for them to understand each other's thoughts.

"There." They both said proudly as they stepped back. No one in the room could suppress a grin.

"Perfect." Hermione stated. Minerva McGonagall, standing at the edge of the scene, bent down to pick up an object that had apparently been overlooked by the two would-be artists.

"And the carrot?" she inquired drily, holding the long orange vegetable upright and quirking an eyebrow. After a startled succession of blinking from the occupants of the room, they all dissolved in peals of laughter once more.

* * *

**Thank you thank you thank you for all the reviews...keep em coming! **


	5. Rehersal: Molly and Hooch

They met again in the Room of Requirement the next night, this time being Molly's turn for a rehearsal. Ginny begged off from 'creatively dressing' her mother, leaving the details to Hooch and Minerva, who had by now completely thrown herself into the idea, at least whilst it was everyone else's turn. A part of her was still nervous, but it had been considerably damped down by the part of her that was, to her, shockingly thrilled at the thought of sharing a nude scene with Hermione.

The room was made to look like a homely kitchen, and Hermione wondered if they could make this shot on the calendar a scratch 'n' sniff; the baking was delightfully mouth-watering. As Molly began to undress, Ginny shrieked.

"Mum! What are you doing? It's only a rehearsal!"

"Calm down, Ginerva, for Merlin's sake. Unlike Pomona's shot, mine requires precision and meticulous placement as I shall be standing up and moving about considerably more." As she shed her bra, Hermione couldn't help a gasp, and Rolanda frowned deeply, turning her head at an angle.

"We're going to need considerably bigger buns." Minerva stated, quite drily and quite unnecessarily.

* * *

Molly Weasley's rehearsal the previous night had turned into hours of meticulous fine planning, rough drafting of other ideas, and, as far as Hermione was concerned, the one thing that she had wanted; laughter. The innocent questions from Sybil and the acerbic comments from Minerva had the room doubled up more often than not, and she had a feeling that Rolanda Hooch's run through that evening would be no different. She began to see her former teachers in a whole new light, one that whilst not the purest, was also quite heart-warming.

She snapped her thoughts back to the present in enough time to see Rolanda mounting the broom in nothing but a dressing gown, and Molly Weasley at the ready holding two bludgers close to her own considerable bosom.

"Ready?" she enquired, and as if they'd done it a thousand times before, Rolanda dropped her gown and seamlessly took the bludgers.

"Wait for it." Minerva muttered to Ginny.

"There." Molly said proudly.

It seemed the pair, even though Hooch was a flying instructor, had completely overlooked the innate destructive nature of a bludger. The room of requirement could only do so much. The bludgers fought against Rolanda's strong grip, and eventually broke free, toppling her off the broom at the same time. Ginny actually squealed and snapped her gaze away as Rolanda's topple left nothing at all to the imagination.

"!" she chanted, her hands over her face now as she tried to rid herself of the image.

Minerva gazed at her sympathetically whilst casually aiming her wand at the bludgers and coaxing them back into their case.

Hermione gingerly leant over the flying instructor, glad that she had recovered enough to grab her robe and salvage at least some dignity.

"Are you ok?" she asked, helping her to her feet. "Whatever possessed you to use bludgers?"

"Well I didn't hear any objections from you before we bloody pulled them out, smart-ass! And besides, a snitch would hardly have done the bloody job, would it?"

She stopped walking, as a slow grin spread over her face. "Although..."

A half hour later and Rolanda was sat back on the broom, a pair of knee high Hollyhead Harpies socks on, clutching a golden snitch in each hand, their wings fluttering madly.

"You are crazy," Pomona told her bluntly.

"Ah, maybe so, but you only live once. And I may have a face off Crimewatch, but I got a body off Baywatch."

Hermione burst into peals of laughter, and at the other's blank faces, attempted to explain about the Muggle crime programme versus the hit lifeguarding series where all the stars seemed to be hand-sculpted.

"How did you know about it?" she asked.

"Heard a couple of the third years saying it, so I investigated. I decided not to take offence, and hey! May as well give them concrete proof! Let's get on with it, then."

Hermione laughed again as she pulled out her wand, ready to banish the dressing gown.

"You do not have a face off Crimewatch." She stated, then mumbled the spell.

Minerva, who had been chuckling lightly, suddenly found herself with a knot of...jealousy?..in her stomach.

_Well, _she thought huffily, _perhaps not a face off Crimewatch, but certainly not a body off Baywatch, either._

This thought, and the fact that Hermione had not told Hooch that she had, in fact a Baywatch body, made Minerva feel absurdly, insanely better.

She brought herself back to the room, and despite her thoughts, had to laugh as Ginny once again had her face hidden behind her hands, albeit with fingers splayed, and Hooch holding the two ridiculously small balls to her chest, moving them about experimentally.

"Now, can anyone see my nipples?"

Minerva stepped forward, tilted her head from all angles, and summoned another case.

"A quaffle, perhaps?" she asked, staring pointedly. Molly dissolved into peals of laughter.


	6. More rehearsal and planning

The next couple of evenings passed without much hilarity. They did Sybil's rehearsal first, but apart from a couple of withering stares and barely suppressed tutting and eye-rolling from Minerva at the flamboyant Divination professor's requests, it was nothing out of the ordinary, the woman being too eccentric and naive to be fun for an extended period of time. They did discover, however, that without her glasses, the woman was quite blind, which lead to an interesting altercation when she took off her glasses, felt in front of her for the crystal balls, and got a couple of handfuls of Poppy Pomfrey as she bent over to adjust some tea leaves.

"Magical lift not working, then?" Minerva had asked quietly, eyebrows raised, eyes sparkling.

Ginny had decided on a simple, yet enchantingly beautiful scene using the Great Lake. Hermione knew instantly that this would be July. Ginny would lay on her stomach on a rock, letting the waves lap gently at her feet. There was no need to rehearse that.

That evening, they had just finished rehearsing Madam Pomfrey's scene. Showing her behind the desk in the Hospital Wing, an assortment of potions bubbling in front of her, the steam rising at just the right density and angle to hide the most important things, Hermione couldn't help but think that the scene was quite sensual. She caught Minerva's eye and had the grace to blush slightly, but it was far outweighed by the smirk she found, knowing from the look in Minerva's eye that she, too, had thought the same, but that they were both also feeling slightly jealous of the other's thoughts.

_This is insane_, Hermione thought as she pulled herself together and began to sort out her sheaths of parchment. She looked up and caught everyone's attention.

"Right, as you all know, we will be rehearsing Minerva's scene tomorrow, but with all of us, that leaves four months without an image. We need to think of some ideas for groups, or couples, or something."

At the word 'couples' Hermione's eyes inadvertently flicked towards Minerva's, who had done the same, and for a split second, they both felt the need to grin stupidly.

"Well," Hooch said immediately. "January is typically hangover month, so I suggest some image of post-Christmas debauchery."

Sybil looked confused.

"Hangover month?"

"Yes, you know, Christmas and New Year celebrations are over, all the alcohol needs to be soaked up, financial burden from over-spending, bigger waistlines from over-indulgence...hangover month."

Sybil furrowed her brow and shook her head. Minerva patted her gently on the arm.

"Not to worry dear, a hangover is something that I very much doubt you will ever be plagued by. You need to actually be sober first."

She added the last comment so quietly that she could almost have spoken it to herself, which was her intention. The rest of the room hid their smiles.

"Ok, drunken debauchery...we can work with that. That leaves three."

Minerva put her brain to work, rapidly trying to think of four easily workable scenarios. Her mind didn't quite want to process 'drunken debauchery', especially with Hermione around, and Rolanda to interfere.

"Quidditch practice, perhaps, between Ginny and Rolanda? Naturally, a group Christmas one, carol singing or something of the like?"

"Excellent." Hermione murmured, as she rapidly took notes, ideas and scenarios already forming.

"Leaving...one."

Poppy looked from Hermione to Minerva, and wiped her hand over her face quickly to hide her grin. She knew that Rolanda had also noticed some of the curiosity and attraction building between the two, but didn't trust her enough to come up with something that wouldn't be shameful, and completely inappropriate viewing for the rest of the Wizarding World.

"A duel, perhaps," she offered, flicking her gaze between the two. "Between the hero of the first Dark War, and the hero of the Second?"

The room fell silent in contemplation, then Rolanda caught Poppy's eye and winked.

"Excellent idea."

Molly joined in, her eyes sparkling.

"Yes, yes, yes. Very symbolic. And dramatic...oooh, I'm thinking fire; water; lots of sparks...and lions! There must be a lion!"

She was caught up in the ideas running through her mind, so apart from Sybil, she was the only one in the room not to see the quickly exchanged knowing, heated glance between the two under discussion.

_Cat Whisperer..._

Poppy beamed.

"Excellent. Well, that's sorted then. Christmas month; Hangover month; duelling month; and Quidditch month. I can't wait!"

* * *

** I know the chapters are short, but hopefully descriptive enough!**

**Now...anyone, any ideas on scenes for Christmas, and January? Or maybe something apart from Quidditch? And Minerva's solo scene? Let me know, I'll soak it up!**


	7. Carpeting

**Thank you thank you sooo much to everyone who reviewed, and all the favuorite stories etc. It means a lot xx**

**Hope you like this.**

**I still haven't watched the film, though I have lifted a few more quotes, because I couldn't resist...but I actually have no idea what an international tea tray competition is, nor how one would go about it!**

* * *

Hermione bounded into the Room of Requirement a week after they had first met, to face the group of women already gathered on the various seats.

"We've got it!" she squealed, brandishing a handful of papers rather violently. The occupants of the room ducked quickly as excitable sparks flew out of Hermione's wand towards them.

"Hermione, please!" Minerva spoke, looking pointedly at Hermione's wand in her hand, her high-pitched voice at odds with the calm hand that reached out to snuff out an ember intent on setting her sleeve alight.

"Oh, right, sorry." She hastily dropped her wand and continued on in her squealing. "But we got it! The sponsorship! And and and they've agreed to send one of their own photographers at no extra cost; cover all the printing and publicity _and _have decided to hold an international tea tray competition to boot!"

There was an assortment of grins, chuckles, and confused faces around the room. A chorus of 'well done's' and 'bloody hell's' echoed through the room, until Sybil became the one to voice the thought topmost in everyone's minds.

"Hermione, dear...what is an international tea tray competition?"

Hermione sat, the comment seeming to have taken the edge off her excitement.

"Well...um...actually, I'm not really sure. But," she brightened visibly. "Apparently, Sultan Apu is coming from India with his collection of tea towels."

When the excitement she felt didn't seem to be spreading, Hermione sighed in frustration.

"Sultan Apu? Said to be the last living relative of Aladdin? He's been looking for a magic carpet ever since he heard of his father's; seems he focused his search in a rather unusual area, though. Built up quite the collection, by all accounts, though no one has ever seen them, until now."

"Oh, be still my beating heart," Rolanda muttered. "What's he hoping to fly on a tea towel, a bloody flea circus?"

Hermione huffed, and Ginny suppressed a giggle as she looked at her friend.

"An international tea tray competition is where you create a tray representing a part of the world. For instance, you could make a Jamaican one, or a part of Africa. Points for the most interesting presentation and originality...what?" Ginny stopped abruptly as the eyes of the whole room fell on her. "Hermione's not the only one that can research, you know. Granted, hers is probably more useful, but there is a place for useless information sometimes."

Hermione quickly got over her affront at Ginny knowing something she didn't, and ploughed on.

"Anyway, the photographer is available to start tomorrow, and I thought the sooner the better."

"But we haven't rehearsed everything!" Sybil piped up, panic clearly written on her face.

"Excellent!" Molly Weasley beamed as she stood up, pointedly ignoring Sybil's comment. "It's a good job I managed to get this organised for today, then."

As the group looked on bemused, Molly turned to the back of the room and gave a shout.

"Tegwen, dear, could you come join us now!"

A few moments later, a tall woman with precisely spiked blonde hair and thick black glasses rounded a corner and came to stand next to Molly.

"Everyone, this is Tegwen Grant; George put us into contact when I mentioned what we were doing..."

"You told George?" Ginny squeaked, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Molly looked at her in confusion.

"Of course, dear. We're not making this calendar for our own entertainment now, are we? We need all the publicity we can get! Anyway, Tegwen is here to introduce us to the fascinating world of rugs."

Tegwen leaned down to Molly's ear and hurriedly whispered, the group becoming more intrigued as Molly's eyes widened, and a look of thunder passed across her features as she muttered furiously.

"Bloody George; interior decorating my-Sorry, ladies, I stand corrected. It's not just rugs; it is, in fact, all forms of...um...carpeting."

Hermione and Ginny caught each other's eyes, and didn't manage to hide their snorts of laughter as Minerva paled, Rolanda burst out laughing, Sybil scratched her head, and Pomona gazed down her robes, intrigued.

"No. No front bottoms." Poppy stated as the buzz died down.

"Beg your pardon?" Hermione asked, even as she was asking wishing she wasn't.

"I'm in this all the way, Hermione, but no front bottoms. That's a sight I reserved for just one man in my life."

"Well...do you think your husband would mind then?"

Poppy cocked her head to the side as an evil grin plastered her face.

"It wasn't my husband."

As Ginny covered her ears and began humming what was fast becoming her own personal mantra, Tegwen was already being led to the back of the room on the arms of Molly and Rolanda, as Minerva sat shaking her head in the chair.

"Well, I guess anyone that wants to...err...learn more can go with Tegwen. Otherwise, we'll all meet in here tomorrow. Shall we say 10am; the photographer can make it by eleven, and seeing as it's half term we can go at it for most of the day without major interruptions?"

Poppy nodded enthusiastically, but there came no response from Minerva.

"Minerva? Are you ok?" Hermione asked, bending down in front of her.

Minerva met her gaze and forced the corners of her mouth to quirk a little.

"Are you quite sure that oregano is not a hallucogenic drug? I think I would be willing to sample it about now."

Hermione beamed. Noticing that, despite her protestation, Poppy had dragged Sybil off to the back of the room, and Ginny was busy pretending not to be mortified at her mother's questions, she moved her lips as close to Minerva's ear as she could without touching.

"You have nothing to worry about, Minerva. I'm not the only one that thinks you beautiful."

She leaned in closer, taking Minerva's hands.

"You know," she whispered, causing Goosebumps to appear all over Minerva's skin, "I hope this calendar is a success, because I've already got next year's mapped out."

"Oh, yes?" Minerva managed, hoping her voice was steadier than her breathing.

"Mhmm." Hermione replied, and taking a mental deep breath ploughed on before she could change her mind. "I think that you are going to be such a hit, that next year's calendar is going to be wholly about you; the Twelve most Beautiful views of Minerva McGonagall. Eleven months artistically clothed, and a little 'lift the flap' for December."

Hermione planted a quick kiss on Minerva's cheek, and for the second time in a week, flashed a huge smile before disappearing and leaving Minerva speechless.


	8. The Moment Arrives

At 9.30am the following morning, Hermione was already in the Room of Requirement setting up two scenes that they could begin shooting immediately. She had decided to do Pomona Sprout's first, seeing as it had already been rehearsed, just to ease everyone into it. She set up an adjoining scene for Sybil Trelawney, figuring it was best to get the flighty witch done as quickly as possible.

She stopped to admire her handiwork, leaving her with a few minutes to spare before the others should arrive. Taking a seat and sipping her tea, Hermione's thoughts strayed to Minerva, and she couldn't help a faint blush as she remembered what she had said to the professor the previous evening.

_A little lift the flap for December!_ Her brain almost squealed at her. Hermione honestly didn't know what had gotten into her – well, unless oregano really was dangerous outside of the kitchen – but she knew that ever since their first meeting, she had wanted to get closer to Minerva. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to before, but since the admission that she was gay, Hermione just felt a sudden urge to be near her all the time, and felt herself get insanely jealous each time she thought about what the witch was doing when she wasn't with Hermione. She was glad that she didn't have to spend much time in the headmaster's office anymore, sure that, even though he was now only a portrait, Dumbledore would see right through her, all the way down to the picture of the underwear she hoped Minerva wore. She even felt slightly jealous of Dumbledore, for Merlin's sake! She wanted to get to know Minerva more than anyone else did; the woman captivated her; enthralled her; excited her in ways that made not only her body but her heart and her brain tingle; and now that those flirtatious comments had slipped almost against her will from her mouth, she could only hope that Minerva felt the same.

The door to the room burst open, dragging her from her thoughts. Forcing her eyes up, she met Minerva's sparkling eyes, startled by the intensity in them before it was quickly hidden.

"Morning Hermione. Up and at 'em I see?"

Poppy Pomfrey shuffled past Minerva, a sly glint in her eye.

"Well mine certainly are." She said, cupping her breasts and pushing them together roughly. "What did I tell you, Minerva? Now I'm blemish-free and bootylicious!"

"Booty-what?"

"Sexy baby!" Rolanda Hooch piped up, coming into view behind Molly and Ginny.

"What on earth has gotten into you two?" Sprout asked, confused.

"Muggle internet. We spent last night doing some research. We are 'bootilicious babes' ready to storm the stage with our 'sexy backs'. Or something along those lines." Poppy declared confidently. "Bring it on." She added, with a nod of finality. Hermione caught Ginny's eye and both smiled at the absurdness of the comments coming from their once dignified school nurse.

"Right, well, I think that about sums up the morning pep talk I was going to give, though I can't say that I could have put it quite so colourfully. Pomona, Sybil, we'll be kicking off with you two, seeing as you both know exactly what you're doing. It'll give the rest of us a chance to work over the details of the shots we haven't yet rehearsed, and then hopefully, we can get them done today and tomorrow."

They spent a while making sure that the room was set up to their liking, and changing into dressing gowns, and before they knew it, and certainly before some of them were ready for it, the small photography team had arrived. Hermione noticed everyone had spent an inordinate amount of time talking to Sybil, and as Pomona Sprout entered her scene, and giggled, Hermione thought she knew why.

"Sss ger on wi it, en issi?" Sprout slurred, sitting down none too steadily in her space and letting Ginny organise the shrubbery.

"She's drunk!" Hermione hissed to Minerva. At Minerva's small chuckle, Hermione's eyes darted to glossy green ones.

"Aren't we all?" Minerva asked innocently, and at Hermione's shocked gasp, Minerva made a show of producing a bottle of Muggle vodka. "It's a celebration, Hermione!"

Hermione stared in wonder at Minerva. "But..."

"Oh, let's make a day of it," Molly interrupted, eyes sparkling as she poured a hefty amount into a glass and topped it off with a dash of something Hermione hoped was non-alcoholic. "If you can't beat 'em, Hermione...after all, it'll be your turn soon enough!"

Hermione looked around the room, and noticed that even Ginny seemed to be merrier than usual. Shrugging, she took the proffered glass from Molly.

"Fine. But if you stumble out of your buns, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny will never forgive you," she muttered darkly as she lifted the glass to her lips.

Half an hour later, Pomona and Sybil had been photographed, had remained in their dressing gowns for moral support, and were steadily adding to the range of alcoholic drinks accumulating on what had been designated the party table.

Rolanda was next, and as she took her position on the broom, shed her clothing and held the snitches, everyone laughed as the photographer blanched. Adjusting the lighting to the left of Rolanda, a short white-haired man, almost level with Rolanda's chest, lifted his head to the photographer.

"Best you photograph from straight on, mate," he said, cocking his head. "There ain't much left to the imagination from over here."

"You're spoiling all my fun," Rolanda muttered, then proceeded to whizz about the room, laughing gleefully, as the photographer tried to aim his camera with his eyes shut, wondering what on earth he had done to his boss in order to have landed this job.

As the shots progressed, so did the amount of alcohol consumed, until the photographs had turned into intricately drunken performances, with Molly running around her kitchen, quickly swapping buns for teapots, ducking behind clouds of flour. After one too many readjustments of the set by Rolanda Hooch, the lighting technician exploded in frustration.

"Don't. Touch. The. Buns." As the room came to a standstill, everyone staring at the small man who had been so quiet thus far, he blushed profusely. "Please. Sorry."

Rolanda snorted and dug Molly in the ribs.

"Bad girl." She muttered.

"Bun toucher." Molly countered, causing havoc in the room once again.

Poppy Pomfrey threw herself completely into the party mood, creating shapes in the clouds of potion steam surrounding her, at one point causing Molly to cover Ginny's eyes, and transfiguring a naughty nurse version of herself with such ease that Hermione swore she must have done it before. She thought twice about asking, though, realising that as much as she loved the company of the women, she had heard just about enough about their intimate lives. Ginny managed to keep an air of decorum about her as she lounged on a rock by the Great Lake, until Molly turned her back. Ginny made sure that the photographer was completely focused on her before she gracefully spun her body upwards to a crouching position then dived into the lake, a hearty laugh echoing through the room. Minerva thought the girl would have exceptional poise as an animagus.

"Right then," the photographer stated, clapping his hands together. "Who's next?"

Minerva McGonagall stood slowly, her body not betraying any of the effects of the alcohol.

"That would be me."

As the photographer paled, Minerva gathered all of her Professor demeanour to stride past him and cast a withering glare.

"Let's get on with it, Grant...I used to teach him," Minerva explained to the rest of the room. "Year of '82."

"Did you ever manage transfiguring frogs into princes?" Rolanda asked, her eyes gleaming.

"Umm...I can't recall...um...doing that..."

Minerva cast Rolanda a withering glare, one that Ginny was amused to see mirrored on Hermione's face.

"Don't be dense, Mr. Grant. She's implying that your transfiguration skills need to be unsurpassable in order to make an acceptable photograph of me. I, however, will be satisfied with the fact that you've mastered the use of the camera. Shall we?"

Minerva stood by the window to her office her body slightly facing away from the room, wearing nothing but her hat and a dressing gown, a rather large snowy owl perched on her arm covering her breasts, her lower body just covered by her desk. She took a deep breath, turned her head, her eyes immediately finding Hermione's, and she smiled the most devilish, sensual grin that Hermione had ever seen. Hermione, however, seeing the tension that still lay in the eyes, not quite buried underneath the alcohol and the smile, flashed a reassuring smile.

"You're hot," Hermione breathed so that only Minerva could hear. Then she licked her lips and raised her eyebrows in a distinctly lecherous way. "Off with her clothes!"

Minerva smiled and rolled her eyes, the tension broken.

"Fine," she huffed, and wordlessly banished her gown to a round of cheers. She pierced the camera with a smouldering gaze, and quick as a flash turned her body at the same time lifting her arm away from her chest. The owl launched from her arm, spreading its wings wider than seemed natural, and flew straight at the camera. Once everyone had recovered, their eyes darted back to where Minerva had been stood, only to find a grey tabby cat perched on the desk.

"Wow," Ginny breathed. "Now if you did _that_ to the first years..."

But Minerva had transformed back into her human self and actually flopped down into a chair, her gown draped haphazardly around her.

"Minerva," Poppy asked, the first to gather her wits about her. "Are you alright?"

"She's quite pale." Molly stated unnecessarily, with a concerned look at Poppy.

"She's just shocked." Rolanda half slurred, pushing a glass of firewhiskey into Minerva's hand. "Minerva, knock it back."

It must have been the first time that Minerva had followed any instruction from Rolanda without question, causing Hermione to bend down by her knees, concerned. At the gentle touch on her thigh, Minerva started, her eyes focusing on Hermione.

"One minute the dressing gown was on, the next it was just me and the hat! I feel...I feel..."

"Faint?"

"Sick?"

"Drunk?"

"Liberated." Minerva finished, leaning forward to refill her own glass. She took a deep, steadying breath, and raised her glass in a toast.

"Come on then, Hermione, the sooner you get done the sooner I get to have at it again."

"Blimey, where did you come from?" Ginny asked, in awe of the sudden change in Minerva.

"I'd forgotten how thrilling it is to feel...thrilled! Oh, and regarding the first years, they wouldn't spend the rest of the year shaking with fear and anticipation, and in this modern world where everything is at your fingertips, it is nice to keep an air of mystique about oneself. Don't you think, Hermione?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, then nodded rather dumbly. Noticing the effect that Minerva had on Hermione, Rolanda roughly ruffled her hair.

"Not too much mystique, though, eh, Miss Granger?"

Hermione blushed furiously, and found herself annoyed at Minerva for the grin that had spread over her face. Causing squirming was supposed to be _her _job.

"Yes, well, my turn now, isn't it?" Hermione asked as she strode into the scene that had just changed to the Gryffindor common room. "Don't you all have cocktails to continue making, or something?" she aimed at the women who stood watching her, smirking.

Hermione sat on the sofa, in front of the roaring fire in the Gryffindor common room. She had books spread out around her, and a piece of parchment artistically draped around her body. She began to practice her charms and transfiguration, creating a host of new objects, and stretching her knowledge of manipulation and levitation to the limit, leaving everyone in the room more than impressed. As the photographer was about to wrap up, Minerva decided that a grand finale was in order. She pointed her wand to the fireplace, which roared to life, causing an array of reactions through the room; Poppy screamed; Sybil fell off her stool; Molly grabbed Ginny to her tightly, and Rolanda and Pomona found themselves in each other's arms. Out of the fireplace, a giant lion leapt, made from pure flames. Hermione leapt from the sofa, wand outstretched. The lion reared on its hind legs and with one long, ear-splitting, hair-raising roar, opened its mouth and engulfed Hermione. No sooner had Hermione disappeared in the flames, than they promptly disappeared with a theatrical whoosh back into the fire, leaving Hermione stood draped in a Gryffindor scarf, wand still raised.

"I believe that makes you hotter." Minerva whispered so quietly that if it wasn't for the small smile, Hermione would have sworn she imagined it. To the rest of the room she added "That was perfect, I think." Minerva stated from her chair. "I believe that signals the end of all the individual shots. A celebration round of drinks is in order, I think."

The room took a few moments to recover.

"Merlin's beard, Minerva, you did that? A bit of warning wouldn't have gone amiss, woman, you know, given recent history!" Molly berated her, finally loosening her grip slightly on Ginny. Minerva had the decency to blush.

"My apologies everyone. It just popped into my head, and I thought it would be a fitting ending so I went ahead without thought."

"Well, it certainly was theatrical, I'll give you that. But the shock has left me feeling far too sober, and we still have four more months to shoot. To, umm, Christmas!" Rolanda shouted, dispatching a glass of sparkling bright green liquid to everyone.

"What is this?" Minerva asked, eyeing the liquid suspiciously, along with everyone else except Sybil, whose glass was hovering in front of her lips expectantly.

"I've decided to name it _McGonagall Minx_ in honour of your performance. Bottoms up...or whichever way you'd prefer yours!" Whilst everyone cheered and drunk their shot, Rolanda quickly added in Minerva's ear. "Or should I say whichever way Hermione would like it?"

Minerva spluttered through her mouthful of liquid, and when she looked up, her cheeks flaming, she found Rolanda looking innocently away, and Hermione smirking at her once again.

Mr. Grant the photographer, took in the group of ladies giggling, laughing, and generally getting a little merry, and sighed. He raked his hand through his hair.

"Never mind, only four more shots to do."

His eyes swept the table where Hermione had kept all relevant documents, including roughly sketched out ideas. His eyes were drawn to the Quidditch idea, and he rolled them, wondering what on earth Hooch would come out with this time. Then he took in the planned shot for January, and although his courage blanched a little at the thought of what McGonagall would say to _that_ idea, he couldn't help but grin as he realised that the longer the women were here, the more they drunk, and the less likely it was that they would actually have to put much effort into acting out the morning after effect after all. His grin widened.

"Ladies, I believe this bottle of rum has been sadly overlooked."

He smiled as it made the rounds. This was turning out to be quite entertaining.

* * *

**So are we still liking? Is it too..dull; stupid; whatever? Let me know. Probably a few more chapters left...already got them vaguely planned out so shouldn't be too long, as long as you still want them x**

**And if you still want them, then I shall gladly ignore my dissertation work in favour of this!**


	9. Gryffindors Duel

"Ok, ok, okaaay," Molly waved her hands in the air, narrowly avoiding hitting Sybil on the head with a nearly empty bottle of Vodka. "I think we should get this duel underway first, before we all have to report to the Hospital wing with boils and burns and Merlin knows what else you two come up with."

Rolanda snorted.

"Good luck with that visit." She said, nodding her head in the direction of the mediwitch, who was sat on the sofa, her head nodding into her chest.

"Great. We haven't done Christmas yet." Hermione muttered, wracking her brains for a soberness potion or charm.

"Ah, we'll just pretend she's the drunken relative that always comes to visit...you know the one you don't see all year, turns up with a recycled Christmas card, eats all the best chocolates and drinks you out of your newly stocked wine cellar."

It was Minerva's turn to snort.

"If I recall correctly Rolanda, that has been your role in my house on more occasions than I care to remember."

"But I do it with such grace and cheer." Rolanda winked, and Hermione found herself staring between the two women, trying to gauge their relationship. They had seemed like only friends, but Christmas, and alcohol, and no mention of anyone else...Hermione quickly stopped her train of thought. Even if they had, everyone has a life, she told herself, and shushed the little jealous voice that kept nagging at her. Of course Minerva had a life. She just didn't want to imagine one without her in it. Snapping herself out of her musings before she gave in and pounced on Minerva, she cleared her throat.

"Yes, anyway, the duel. Shall we?" she extended her hand to Minerva to pull her out of the chair, and had to suppress a gasp when Minerva grasped it and ran her thumb along Hermione's wrist.

"It shall be my pleasure," Minerva murmured as they went to stand in a scene that had transformed into giant caves, reminiscent of the time that Harry had had to outsmart the dragon in the Triwizard Tournament. They could hear the sound of waves crashing, and when they looked, they realised that they were perched inside a cliff.

"Spooky," Ginny commented as everyone except the unconscious Poppy gathered round to watch. Hermione and Minerva stood in their gown, facing each other, the wind whipping their hair, wisps falling out of Minerva's bun.

"Bow," Minerva almost had to shout over the noise. "Then, we start."

"Give me your worst." Hermione grinned. No sooner than she bowed, she had to roll to dodge sparks thrown by Minerva's wand. She quickly jumped to a crouching position and fired off a jet of red sparks before ducking behind a rock. Wisps of mist had begun to gather around them, and Minerva grinned before wordlessly banishing Hermione's robe. Hermione squealed and she threw a glance at the photographer, breathing a sigh of relief when she realised that the mist would cover most of her modesty. Having taken her eye off the game for a few seconds too long, she found herself surrounded by a ring of fire. Gathering all her strength, she moulded the ring into a hurricane pushing it towards Minerva until it engulfed her. She felt her magic being pushed back towards her, and suddenly the fire was overcome by a huge wave of water summoned from over the cliff. When Minerva reappeared, she too was without her robe, bits of her hair darkened further by the wetness and plastered to her face. Hermione's chest heaved at the sight. The woman looked utterly erotic. She noticed the movement of Minerva's wand and quickly cast a shield charm to repel the sparks flying towards her, causing Minerva to duck. She quickly recovered, and transfigured some rocks into gargoyles that flew towards Hermione, who muttered a charm that caused them to fly in a circle and crash into each other, smashing to pieces, which she crushed into sand before sending the cloud sailing towards Minerva. When the cloud dissipated, Minerva was nowhere to be seen. Bewildered, Hermione whirled around, to find the woman crouched on a ledge three feet above her head.

"Keep your eye on the game, Hermione," Minerva shouted. She muttered an incantation and Hermione could only stare as mist and clouds gathered around the woman, leaving it almost impossible to make her out. Hermione braced herself, but as the clouds parted, she couldn't help but gasp. In place of Minerva McGonagall, a lioness stood, crouched, ready to pounce. Hermione racked her brains, for the incantation, and it came to her just as the lioness launched herself off the ledge.

The resulting roar had managed to wake Poppy, who now stood next to the other women, holding tightly to Pomona's arm, who in turn stood watching, entranced. Even Rolanda had abandoned the bottle of Tequila she had been clutching.

"Wow," Ginny breathed, eyes glued to the scene.

Hermione had also transformed into a lioness, and as Minerva launched herself off the ledge, she met Hermione, who had jumped onto her hind legs, front paws outstretched, ready to tackle Minerva. The two women fought like the animals they had become, teeth meeting teeth, claws digging, rolling over, on top of each other, both rearing up, swiping.

"You're supposed to be catching this, remember?" Molly hissed to the photographer, who had stood transfixed, camera hanging useless about his neck.

"Oh, yes, right," he stumbled, raising the camera and pointing without tearing his eyes from the scene.

And then a collective gasp ran through the room as Hermione transformed back, having stretched her magic to its limit. She lay, panting, pinned underneath Minerva the lioness, huge jaws mere inches from her face. As their eyes met, Minerva too changed back, her arms either side of Hermione's head holding her up. A sheen of sweat covered both women. Minerva's hair had come completely loose and spread about her face and hung down so that the ends tickled Hermione's neck. Sparks flew from their eyes, and as adrenalin still coursed through the both of them, Minerva's arms buckled at the same time that Hermione stretched up to capture Minerva's lips. They crashed together, Hermione's arms automatically engulfing Minerva as they devoured each other's lips. They ripped apart with a gasp as their naked legs found each others. Minerva once again raised herself onto her arms, her chest heaving even more.

"Minerva," Hermione breathed, her hands coming up to pull Minerva's hair over her shoulder. "I think perhaps we ought to stop now."

At Minerva's glazed look, Hermione chuckled. "We have an audience."

Hermione smiled softly as a blush crept up Minerva's chest and rushed to her face. Hermione used the last of her strength to summon some robes, and the two women slowly got to their feet, legs somewhat shaky, bodies a bit sore, and hair sporting the extremely tousled look. They made their way to the gang of women gathered at the edge of the scene, smiles dancing on their faces.

"Well," Molly said after a few moments of silence and staring. "That certainly is a...novel way to settle a battle. Whoever said make love not war certainly had foresight."

Minerva, if possible, blushed even deeper, before gathering her Professor demeanour and squaring her shoulders.

"Yes. Well. Mr. Grant I trust that you have sufficient sense and editorial skills."

It wasn't a question, which turned out to be a good job as the photographer seemed to have been struck by a Petrificus Totalus. Ginny giggled.

"With that performance, you're lucky he managed to shoot anything at all. Hermione, where did you learn that?"

Hermione shrugged in a very un-Hermione-like way.

"I do read a lot, Gin. Now, before Christmas, I think I need a drink. Rolanda, Ginny, why don't you do the Quidditch practice now?"

The two women nodded, and as they strolled across what had now transformed into a Quidditch arena, Rolanda found her voice again. She pinned Ginny with a forceful look and wagged a finger at her.

"Now then, missy, don't go getting any ideas after watching those two. I have no intentions of rising to the challenge, so to speak. Not until you buy me a tidy drink, anyway. So no mock-falling off your broom or any such thing, I won't fall for it...yet." she winked at Ginny and carried on her way, leaving Ginny giggling slightly, until she caught sight of her mother standing at the outskirt, hands on hips, glaring at the retreating form of Rolanda. Ginny rolled her eyes and carried on her way, an evil glint in her eye. She wondered how one could go about falling off ones broom painlessly, after checking that her mother was watching, of course.

* * *

Minerva and Hermione flopped onto the sofa, drinks in hand, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm too old for this," Minerva stated, using her wand to dry her hair but not bothering to pin it up. Hermione snorted, and held out her free hand to Minerva to show her the trembling.

"Me too, then."

Minerva took Hermione's hand, surprised at how cold it felt.

"You just stretched yourself a little. That was advanced work you used. I'm impressed. Though I must say, I hope you never have to put it to use in a duel ever again."

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione answered, her fingers tickling Minerva's palm. "I think I would rather like to see a duel with you through to the end."

Minerva gasped at the statement and at the sensations Hermione was creating in her hand. Their knees touched, and both women jumped.

"That sounds...more than appealing, Hermione," Minerva whispered, her hand caressing Hermione's too by now. "But I think that we should wait until after Christmas."

"After Christmas?" Hermione asked, her heart sinking. They were only in October.

Minerva nodded at the other side of the room, where Ginny and Rolanda were exiting the Quidditch pitch, laughing heartily, and where Molly stood with a strangely dark look on her face.

"Don't we have a Christmas scene to decorate?"

Hermione smiled, her mood instantly lightening.

"Ah yes. Somehow, I think I shall enjoy this Christmas!"

* * *

**Thank you everyone for the reviews, it means a lot x I have more written, but I'm too tired to edit right now, so will update tomorrow...hoping you enjoy; I must say I had fun picturing Minerva and Hermione in a nude duel, although I am floating slightly on headache tablets so excuse me! :)**


	10. Christmas

**I must apologise profusely for the late update...my internet went haywire, and no amount of changing leads or well-aimed bashing would make any difference! Hope this is worth it, though the guy from TalkTalk who had to deliver a new router would not agree!**

* * *

"Minerva McGonagall, you put me back this instant!"

Hermione whipped around at the booming command, but couldn't find the source.

"I mean it!"

Bewildered, Hermione peered at the Christmas tree that had appeared in the middle of the Great Hall. All the house tables had been banished, leaving only the staff table.

"Professor Sprout?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Pomona, dear. And yes, it's bloody well me! I mean it, Minerva! Hermione, you better tell your girlfriend to change me back or she'll be eating Bubotuber Puss for the next year!"

At the word girlfriend, Hermione had to suppress the urge to giggle, especially when Ginny dug her in the ribs.

"I never thought I'd ever be able to imagine McGonagall as anyone's girlfriend," Ginny smirked. "It's cute!"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Hermione hissed as the woman in question approached the two.

"Minerva, I don't think Pomona likes being the Christmas tree," Hermione stated, feeling her heart beat faster at the closeness of the other woman.

"Oh, very well. But doesn't she look quite cute?"

Ginny laughed at the word she had used to describe Minerva not a minute ago.

Two pairs of furious brown eyes blinked from underneath two tinsel eyebrows. Bauble earrings wobbled beautifully as Pomona huffed.

"I do think it's rather good," Hermione said. "But if Pomona is going to be a tree, then it's only fair that the rest of us are transfigured too."

"Ooooh, can I be an elf?" Rolanda asked, her yellow eyes sparkling.

"That's cheating!" Pomona yelled. "That's just dressing up in a costume. I'm bloody shrubbery!"

Minerva rolled her eyes and with a flick of her wand Pomona returned to normal.

"So what's the plan?" Poppy asked, her voice slightly slurred, but she could now stand up without assistance.

"Ok, Ginny and I will be wrapping presents by the table; Mrs. Weasley will be stuffing the turkey..." Rolanda snorted and Molly giggled. Hermione glowered at them before continuing. "Pomona and Sybil will be decorating the Christmas tree; Minerva will be decorating the rest of the Hall; I think it's safest if you just sit by the fire singing carols, Poppy, to be honest, and Rolanda...you can run around generally just...being an elf."

Seeing that everyone was agreed, they all went to their designated places and took off their robes. Minerva already looked artistically decorated, with banners and ribbons flying out of her wand, weaving around her body before flying off to adorn the walls; Poppy sat by the fire, creating lovely Christmassy scenes in the flames and humming softly; Pomona was having great fun levitating Sybil, who had tinsel wrapped around her entire body, to the top of the tree.

"Couldn't she just charm the objects to fly by themselves?" Hermione muttered to Minerva, unable to resist getting closer to the woman to appreciate the sensuous way that the banners weaved around her body.

"Where's the fun in that?" Minerva answered slyly, as Sybil squealed.

Hermione chuckled as she went to join Ginny by the table.

"You've both got it soo bad," Ginny commented as she started wrapping presents, the boxes strategically placed to hide their bodies.

"Got what?" Hermione asked innocently.

"You and Minerva. You can't stop looking at each other. It's sweet."

Hermione swatted her on the arm, and then laughed out loud as she noticed Minerva doing the exact same thing to Rolanda, who was busy generally being a nuisance.

"Girls," Molly interrupted. "Here we go...what's Christmas without a drop of Sherry."

"Oh yes," Ginny smiled, taking the proffered glass and turning to Hermione with a wink. "Santa used to love Sherry in our house. If I recall, we used to have to leave a glass from all seven of us, because otherwise he may have forgotten to leave our presents!"

Hermione laughed as Molly went back to piling up mince pies, already on her third glass of Sherry. When it came to stuffing the turkey, Rolanda appeared almost instantly by Molly's side.

"You're stuffing the wrong end." Rolanda stated.

"Oh dear," Ginny muttered, and buried herself further into the pile of wrapping paper.

"Madame Hooch," Molly began, her features darkening visibly. "I have been making Christmas dinner for the best part of twenty years, and I think I know enough by now to know which end of the turkey to do what with."

Rolanda burst out laughing.

"Oh, there's so much potential in that comment! But no, seriously, if you just..."

Rolanda attempted to grab the turkey, but was stopped by Molly's hand on her arm.

"Don't. Touch. The. Food."

By now everyone in the room had stopped to watch. Molly's fierce protectiveness of her kitchen was legendary, and even though this was only a table in the make-believe Great Hall for a staged event, everyone knew that once Molly Weasley decided to do something, it was hers and hers alone.

"But just..." Rolanda grabbed one leg, and Molly seized hold of the other. An almighty crunch followed, and the turkey split cleanly in half, sending Rolanda flying, and stuffing spewing everywhere.

"Look what you've done!" Molly shrieked. Hermione got to her feet, sensing an intervention was in order.

"Mrs. Weasley, we can just..."

"Stay out of it, Hermione." Molly lifted a finger in warning. Ginny tugged Hermione's arm.

"I would if I were you. I mean, one Christmas, dad decided to add a little sausage meat to the stuffing. After she'd calmed down enough to let him out of the shed, that's all she put on his plate for three days. Ron tried to stick up for him, and that's all he got, too. He was devastated."

"Oh."

They both looked on with morbid fascination as Molly advanced on Rolanda. She raised her half of the turkey, and Rolanda was only just quick enough to hold hers up before Molly's half smacked into it.

"You were going to hit me with it!" Rolanda yelled, scrambling to her feet.

"I'll do more than hit you with it!"

"I've had bigger and better women say that to me over the years!" Rolanda yelled as she dodged another blow, grabbed a fistful of stuffing from the table and hurled it towards Molly's face. A deathly silence fell in the room as Molly slowly wiped her eyes free of the glob.

"Needs a little more sage." She commented. "So I suppose, it's not really wasteful..." she grabbed a handful and flung it in Rolanda's face. Pomona had left Sybil hanging in mid-air as her concentration rested solely on the two women. Rolanda wiped her eyes, and with an evil, challenging glint, picked up a couple of mince pies.

"No. No no no no n..."

The rest of Molly's protest was cut off as a pie came flying towards her. She managed to duck, the pie sailing straight over her head and exploding on Hermione's chest.

"Right. That's it."

And before long, everyone was involved in the food fight, even Sybil who, from her vantage point in mid-air, caught flying foodstuffs and hurled them gleefully around the room, eerily reminiscent of Peeves.

When all the food was too mashed to throw anymore, the women gathered, laughing, around the table, robes back on. The photographer joined them, having cleaned himself up reasonably well. Glasses of Sherry were passed along the table, and everyone took a dignified sip, until Rolanda summoned a jug and several large glasses.

"What's _that_?" Sybil asked, her eyes flickering madly at the multicoloured liquid in the jug.

"A cocktail." Rolanda declared triumphantly. "A pretty mean one too, if I say so myself." She poured the liquid and proudly topped them off with a strawberry and umbrella.

"Cor blimey!" Pomona gasped, the first one brave enough to take a sip. She promptly dived in for more, with Molly and Sybil following.

"I suggest we have a little party," Rolanda spoke after everyone had tried their drink. "And leave the morning after till...well, the morning after. What do you say, everyone? Mr Photographer?"

They all looked to Hermione who shrugged her shoulders. "We've been going at it all day – drinking, I mean – so why not finish off with a flourish."

The photographer smiled. "Sounds like a good idea to me, though if you don't mind, I may just stick around and take some snaps, see if any would be worth using?"

"Great! Now then..." Rolanda got to her feet. "Music; dancing; disco!"

Almost immediately the room changed. There were small tables scattered around the edge of the room, and a dance floor with a huge, glittering disco ball suspended from the ceiling. The music started almost immediately, and a bar had appeared in the corner.

They took it in turns behind the bar concocting various drinks; some delightfully delectable, though rather toxic in alcohol percentage, and some that triggered the gag reflex.

"Ooooh!" Hermione squealed, when the music changed. "I know this one!" She grabbed her wand and transfigured everyone's robes. The photographer burst out laughing.

"Village people!" he cried.

Ginny laughed, looking down on herself in her tight denim dungarees and work boots

"I know this! Dad loves it!"

"Oh. My. God. I've fallen in love with me." Rolanda said as she admired herself from all angles in the figure-hugging leather biker outfit. Sybil looked bewildered as her hands fondled the massive headgear and she looked down on the feathers adorning her body instead of her scarves. Molly gave a hoot eerily reminiscent of the cowboy she was dressed as, and Pomona looked down at herself, bewildered.

"What the bloody hell is this?"

"The characters of the Village People; biker; cowboy; Indian; construction worker; sailor and policeman." Hermione explained, pointing to Pomona and herself on the last two.

"How come they're not dressed up?" Sybil asked, pointing a finger accusingly at Minerva and Poppy.

"Ah, well...there's only six of the village people, you see."

"Oh, we can fix that!" Rolanda interjected, and before anyone could protest or move she raised her wand and murmured in the direction of Poppy and Minerva.

"Oh, how original," Poppy drawled as she looked down on herself, clad in a PVC naughty nurse outfit.

"Thank goodness Ron and Harry have left Hogwarts." Hermione stated. At Ginny's questioning raised eyebrow, Hermione expanded.

"Usually, I only ever ended up in the Hospital Wing because of them. If I ended up there this year I don't think I'd be able to cope with the cringing!"

Their laughter was interrupted by a dry cough from Minerva.

"And me, Rolanda?"

"_You_ are absolutely _ravishing_, my good Professor."

"G.I Jane, if I'm not mistaken." Hermione answered as she took in Minerva's camouflage-style tight shorts, black vest top, knee high black boots and an oversized camouflage jacket. The facial make-up set it off, along with a slight change in hairstyle to a loose ponytail. Hermione had to agree with Rolanda's statement.

"The dance!" the photographer urged them, starting the song from the beginning. "Take it away, Hermione!"

Hermione, along with Ginny who had taken it upon herself to study Muggle dancing, began the dance moves to the Y.M.C.A. and before long, the rest of them had joined in, even though most of them had never heard it before, throwing themselves into the campness. Mr. Grant, the photographer seized the opportunity and took a few photos, still not quite believing that the staid, reserved, strict Transfiguration teacher was dressed in sexy camouflage waving her arms in the air making letters alongside the rest of The Village People. He smiled as they all fell about laughing, Minerva trying to gather some decorum now that the song had ended.

"Oh, give it up, Tabby, and have another cocktail!" Rolanda cried, smacking her on the back.

"Tabby?" Minerva asked, incredulous.

"Yes, as in, tabby cat, as in...you! Tabby." Rolanda affirmed. Minerva pulled a face.

Molly opened her mouth but Minerva immediately raised a finger.

"If you want to keep your vocal cords, Miss Prewett, I suggest you say nothing. Minerva will do fine."

Ginny snorted, the edge having been taken out of Minerva's threat by the alcohol soaking her system.

"Last week she was Professor McGonagall; this week Minerva; next week Tabby, I bet money on it!" Ginny poked Hermione in the ribs.

"Get a grip!" Hermione scowled, but then gave in to a huge grin again. "C'mon and dance!" it was a strange sight, Mr. Grant thought, seeing a policewoman and a construction worker dancing wildly to Muggle music in the middle of an enchanted room; but not as strange, he realised, as seeing a leather-clad biker slow dance with an Indian. He took photos the entire night, watching the women get drunker and party harder, until the music changed and the dancing turned slower, although he wasn't too sure whether some were dancing or merely holding each other up.

"C'mon, Sybil, we better get you tucked up," Rolanda muttered, hoisting the almost unconscious woman to her feet. "A tad too much, I think."

Minerva, her arms around Hermione on the dance floor, rolled her eyes. "The woman hasn't been sober since 1980."

"I don't think you're in any position to make disparaging comments about drunkenness at the moment, Minerva." Hermione whispered, giggling. She was about to lean in for a kiss when the music abruptly stopped.

"I feel the night is drawing to a close, ladies...and man. But you can't end a party, especially a Christmas party, without a game of Twister!" Rolanda shouted, as if they had all gone deaf.

Hermione groaned.

"Hey," Rolanda raised her eyebrows in warning. "It's either that, or truth or dare!"

"Twister sounds delightful!" Ginny piped up. "I think my brain has dealt with enough truths this week to last a very long time!"

Pomona begged off, citing her inability to stand up straight, and Ginny decided it would be safer if she kept out of it and spun the arrow. No sooner had the room transformed into a larger version of the Gryffindor common room, than Molly sunk into a chair by the fireplace and fell asleep.

"Mum's out! That leaves Minerva; Hermione; Rolanda and Poppy."

Hermione brought her world back into focus by shutting one eye.

"Gimme your worst, Gin!"

The first few moves were simple enough. However, with one hand on blue, the other on red, one foot on yellow and having to move the other foot to blue, the game got infinitely more difficult and, to Ginny at least, much more entertaining.

"Poppy...Poppy!" Minerva hissed from her position underneath the matron's bosom.

"Oh, hi, Minerva!" Poppy wobbled considerably as she tried to look underneath herself.

"Poppy...you didn't put a bra back on!"

"Oh, well, no, I didn't did I? Why, not tempted, are you?" No sooner than she winked, a look of complete surprise crossed her features as she toppled to the side.

"Thank Merlin," Minerva breathed, though as Ginny called out the next colour and she was confronted with a rather personal view of Rolanda's crotch, she rather thought that Poppy's cleavage suddenly looked more appealing.

"I hope you're not enjoying this too much."

Minerva felt the breath on her ear, the resulting shiver causing her arms to nearly buckle.

"But if you are, I don't have to move my arm to the other yellow, and block your view. I could just..."

"Move, now," Minerva breathed, and Hermione's resulting stretch meant that Rolanda toppled and Hermione ended up on top of Minerva, legs between each others, with Minerva arching into even more of a crab shape to try to get closer to Hermione.

"Whoa! I think we have winners!" Rolanda cried when she got up. "Let's save the rest for private quarters, shall we? Or at least make a calendar out of it, give us a proper thrill!"

Hermione let her arms buckle, so her face came within a breath of Minerva's.

"That sounds delightful," she breathed. Minerva smiled as she twisted her head away from Hermione's.

"Perhaps when I'm not likely to be knocked unconscious by the alcohol fumes radiating from you."

"Oh, hark at you, Soberness."

The two women shakily got to their feet and joined Ginny and Rolanda by the bar that had stayed in the corner from the disco. Poppy had gone off to try to climb the staircase to the dormitories, given up and folded into a chair instead, her eyelids drooping heavily.

Pomona had somehow managed to fall into the chair that Molly sat in and slept soundly, Molly's arm protectively wound around her waist. Sybil had been deposited on a pile of cushions, where she curled in on herself and emitted fire-cracking snores every now and again.

Rolanda turned the music up again, and began to wiggle her hips as she handed out shots of a luminous liquid.

"Oh, my Gosh!" Hermione cried as she finished hers off in one hefty swallow. "This is the most perfect song for tonight!" and to everyone's utter amazement she jumped forward and began slowly gyrating, slowly stripping her clothes, teasing with glimpses of skin.

"I believe in miracles!" she sang as she shed her gun holster. "You sexy thing!" she pointed at Minerva then stepped forward to grab her by the jacket and pull her forward.

"Hermione!" Minerva gasped. "What..."

"It's a stripper song...a song you strip to...perfect...come on, everyone; oooh, what a brilliant coincidence!"

Ginny met Rolanda's eyes and they both giggled.

"Please remind Miss Granger of this moment in years to come, won't you?" Rolanda said, eyes sparkling.

"Oh, don't worry. She'll never forget this!" Ginny laughed as she hopped off the stool and grabbed the flying instructor's hand. Taking their cue from Hermione, Ginny and Rolanda let the words sink in and began to strip their clothes in time to the music. When Minerva attempted to sneak away, Rolanda grabbed her and spun her in a surprisingly graceful pirouette before tilting her backwards so that her jacket fell off.

"Come on, Tabs. Give us a last flash, yoo sexy thing!"

Minerva rolled her eyes, but the green held a sly, slightly alcohol-soaked shimmer.

"Only because this may be the only way to stop you from calling me that, Rolanda. Plus it's the only time you will ever get this close to me."

Mr. Grant, sat largely unnoticed in the corner, would bet his life savings that no one would have ever believed what had happened in that room throughout the day. When he accepted the job, he thought that Minerva McGonagall must have been a more common name than he realised because...well..._The _Minerva McGonagall would _never ever_ be so...abandoned. Now he realised that Hermione Granger and just the right amount of alcohol had managed what he and the rest of the Wizarding World thought impossible; so impossible that the belief was almost set in stone; that Minerva McGonagall was the epitome of staid. Now he thought as he watched the four remaining women, Minerva McGonagall could be the epitome of sensuality as she gave in and began stripping what was left of her clothes. He shook his head, thanking his almost empty Gringotts account for having to take this job.

The song ended and the women collapsed onto the sofa in various stages of undress. Minerva went to reach for a robe, but Rolanda held her back.

"Look what I found in the corner!" she said, pulling from behind the sofa a giant ball of wool.

"And what are you intending on doing with that?"

"Oh, a little Christmas decoration, Tabby!"

"Rolanda..." Minerva's voice carried a warning, but before she could move, Rolanda had begun to wind the ball around Minerva's body. Minerva shrieked and tried to twist away, a sight and sound that caused Ginny and Hermione to laugh even harder, for the more she twisted, the more she became entangled in the wool, until she toppled over with an audible thump. Minerva looked slightly affronted that the three women laughed harder at her undignified fall, until she realised that she had, in fact, landed in a giant cat bed.

"It needs working on, your assumed sense of humour." Minerva huffed, but then laughed despite herself. She transfigured into her animagus, and proceeded to play with the giant ball of wool before settling herself into the little pillows she had created. Hermione smiled softly as Minerva settled in, and couldn't stifle a huge yawn of her own.

"Lightweights," Rolanda muttered, getting up, and muttering a spell that transformed the sofa that Ginny and Hermione sat on into a large bed. "Give up, then, all of you, but me...I'll continue the party, keep the candle lit...the cocktails coming..." she laughed as she went back to the bar.

Ginny and Hermione both collapsed into a laying position and closed their eyes at exactly the same time, Hermione half-heartedly covering them both with a sheet.

"Thank you, Gin," Hermione muttered groggily, as her mind drifted into blackness. Ginny opened one eye and smiled as she realised that Hermione's arm was hanging over the edge of the bed, lightly clutching the end of Minerva's tail, who was seemingly fast asleep and purring softly.

"'Snothing to thank me for, Mione. Specially when you wake up!"

Hermione mumbled incoherently, and both fell almost instantly into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**More soon**

**Oh, and thank you to Tigertales for the idea of Minerva/yarn/giant cat bed...couldn't resist!**


	11. Bloody January

A loud crack echoed throughout the Room of Requirement, causing several people to wake with a start, and Rolanda Hooch to fall off the barstool with an even louder bang.

A chorus of groans reverberated in the room, until a mass of hair appeared from underneath a sheet on a bed in the middle of the room.

"Wassat?" the hair slurred, immediately clamping a hand to the side of her head in protest at the noise of her own voice.

"Sybil snoring," came a tentative reply from somewhere behind the bed. The mass of hair slowly became recognisable as Hermione Granger as she gingerly lifted a sheet of frizzy hair from her face.

"Ugh." Hermione moaned as she turned slowly to meet the slightly grey face of Molly Weasley. "Snoring? That should be illegal."

"You did enough of it," came Ginny's groggy voice as she lifted herself up onto her elbows. "Between you snoring and Minerva purring, I don't think we'd have been able to sleep without the alcohol." Her gaze fell on her mother, who had managed to extricate herself from underneath Pomona Sprout and now sat on the floor, head resting against the Herbology Professor's legs. "Mum? You look awful!"

"Thanks, Ginevra. Marvellous boost to my confidence I'm sure."

"Ssgoin on?" Rolanda Hooch wobbled tentatively over to the bed, and flopped down upon it, not bothering to keep her eyes open.

"Sybil snoring." Molly repeated, and then squinted violently. "Rolanda...Hermione..._Ginny!_ You're all naked!"

"Mum, we spent most of yesterday naked."

"But then we got dressed! How..."

"Hot Chocolate." Hermione almost wailed and buried her head underneath the sheet once more.

"Well, give me a minute, dear," Molly said, confused.

"No," came Rolanda's voice, and even though no one could see her face, the grin was evident in the tone of her voice. "It was the name of a Muggle song, or group or something. Hermione there made us all strip to it!"

Another wail rose from the depths of Hermione's pillow.

"Keep it down, whoever's making all the fuss," Pomona woke up and shuffled in her seat, dislodging Molly's head, causing the woman to grimace at the unexpected movement. She tentatively opened one eye and surveyed the scene in front of her.

"Where's Minerva?" she asked, her blurry vision not spotting any sign of the witch.

Hermione's hand shot out from underneath her sheet and waved in the direction of the floor next to the bed.

Pomona and Molly squinted hard at what appeared to be a giant pile of unravelled wool, and jumped back in surprise as the pile began to move.

"M...Minerva?" Molly asked tentatively, crawling forward slightly to gingerly lift up a pile of wool.

"Molly." Minerva's voice came a second before the woman's head appeared through an opening in the wool. Despite the tenderness of her head, Molly chuckled, but before she could speak, Minerva had rolled her eyes and pinned Molly with a strict stare, the edge only somewhat taken off it by the bleariness of her eyes. She continued untangling herself from the ball of wool, until Molly gasped.

"You're naked, too!"

A louder groan escaped from Hermione, who still had her head buried underneath her pillow. Ginny and Rolanda's eyes met, and they both snorted. Minerva quickly summoned a robe for herself, and stepped gracefully up and out of the bed.

"Yes. Well. It's beneficial to let the skin breathe every now and again. Anyone for breakfast?" she walked over to the bar area to find herself a non-alcoholic drink, leaving Molly and Pomona gaping after her, and Ginny and Rolanda smirking at the groaning form of Hermione.

"How can she be so...awake and alert?" Molly moaned, vigorously rubbing her eyes.

"Because she's Scottish." "Because she's a..." Pomona and Rolanda uttered together, until Poppy appeared and sat heavily on the bed, interrupting the last comment.

"No swearing before sunrise." She stated, before groaning and gently laying herself down next to Rolanda, causing Hermione to huff and shift conspicuously.

"Sunrise?" Rolanda exclaimed. "Well, I'm-"

"Doing no such thing." Minerva cut her off as she came and sat on the bed, summoning mugs of coffee to hover in front of everyone (except Sybil, who still snored from under a mass of cushions). Minerva knew of Rolanda's propensity to drink all night and sleep all day. She waved her wand and the curtains of the room opened to bathe them all in the harsh sunlight. It felt warming to the skin, though it wasn't real. "Mr. Grant left a note; he shall be back by 9 with the shots from yesterday for us to approve. And Miss Weasley, I do not purr."

"You've never had Miss Granger stroking you to sleep before." Rolanda muttered, causing Ginny to laugh openly and Hermione to kick her legs out violently.

Poppy groaned, Hermione having missed her target entirely, and gave up on trying to get comfortable. She sat up, dragging Rolanda with her and shoving the coffee in her hand. Molly, ever the parent, got unsteadily to her feet and gathered some robes, flinging them in the general direction of the bed.

"You'll all catch your deaths, and we haven't got January yet."

"Oh yes we have!" came a cheery voice from the doorway. Everyone except Minerva jumped, and Sybil started to wake at the unusual sound of a male voice.

Ginny Hermione and Rolanda all quickly struggled into the robes as Mr. Grant fully entered the room and began unpacking his things onto a table.

"What do you mean, 'oh yes we have'?" Minerva asked, and his face suddenly lost a little of the cheerfulness he had entered with.

"Well, um, as you know, I, um, stuck around for a bit last night and, well..."

"Remind me to speak with the Headmaster about introducing elocution lessons next year." Minerva said drily. Rolanda rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Minerva. As I seem to recall, you had some trouble formulating the letters to a dance last night. What were they again? Ah, yes. Y.M.C.A. Perhaps the staff would benefit also."

Stifling a laugh as he thought sure that it would not be at all beneficial to his future health, he spread out the shots from the previous day.

"I took quite a few, and I think I've managed to amalgamate them all to show the very best from each scene. Please come and peruse, and give feedback." He said in his most professional voice.

He looked at Minerva, his eyes twinkling. The corners of her mouth twitched.

The women all stood and gathered themselves as best they could. With a wave of her wand, Minerva transfigured their clothing, remnants from last night's impromptu fancy dress, back to their original state. Sybil in particular seemed relieved at being released from the constraints of the giant feathers, but still struggled to arrange her scarves, leaving her with a slightly wilder look than usual. They finished their coffee, and with a rising sense of anticipation and dread, ventured over to the table. The room shifted as soon as they moved away from the bed, transforming back into its original state. Rolanda looked longingly at the space where the bed had been. Minerva squared her shoulders and Hermione set her jaw.

"Let's get this over with, then." Minerva said. Molly smiled almost maniacally, the first to approach the table.

"Ooooh!" she squealed. Poppy winced at the noise, and at almost the exact moment she thought it, a cabinet identical to that in the Hospital Wing appeared and she aimed straight for the middle shelf, pulling out a few bottles of revitalising potion. Even Minerva gratefully accepted one. As prepared as they could be, they followed Molly's lead.

The room was silent for a while; even breathing seemed to be kept to a minimum, until Pomona startled them all with a bellowing laugh.

"I love it!" she exclaimed as she thumped Hermione on the back. Hermione grinned, her cheeks flaming.

"I think it's amazing," she breathed.

"Wow." Rolanda muttered.

"What I thought we could do, is charm the photos so that they don't appear until it is that month; keeps it a bit more exciting?" Mr. Grant ventured.

Everyone agreed, except Minerva who was busy studying the shot of her and Hermione. It ended just as Minerva transformed back. There was no kiss, but the atmosphere between them was almost palpable.

"Well?" he asked, genuinely anxious. It seemed to be something that one carried all through life, this need to be good in Minerva McGonagall's eyes.

"I think you've done your profession justice, Mr. Grant."

He audibly released his breath, and Hermione shot him a long of extreme affection.

"Not just his profession," Poppy said, pointing to the photo of her, and then Molly. "Look at those buns!"

"Where's January, then?" Sybil finally asked.

With a shaking hand, Mr. Grant retrieved one last image and placed it in the centre of the table.

He had taken it just after Rolanda had fallen asleep on the bar, and Minerva was turning back to her human self with a little toss of her head, eyes still firmly shut.

Pomona was snuggled comfortably against Molly, whose arm hadn't moved from around her waist. All that was visible of Sybil was a pair of glasses almost buried beneath a mass of feathers, and Poppy looked contentedly snuggled in her own chair. Ginny was wrapped in a sheet, one hand lying on top of Hermione's. Hermione's sheet had tangled somewhat around her body, leaving most of her legs exposed, but everyone's attention was drawn to her other hand, where it rested on the small of Minerva's back, perilously close to her rear, which was covered by a mass of red wool.

"I know it's not really nude, per se, but I though it captured the effect you described rather well, Madam Hooch, and also reflects somewhat of the closeness you've all shown since I arrived..." he trailed off and took in the expressions around him. Mostly everyone was beaming.

"It's perfect." Ginny said. Everyone nodded.

"Now wait just a minute!" Minerva, her voice more high pitched than even Poppy had heard before. "It's...no, definitely not."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop considerably.

"Ok...dare I ask why?" Mr. Grant seemed the only one to be able to formulate a response to the blazing heat in Minerva's rigid stance.

"Why? I am a Deputy Headmistress, _Mr. _Grant, and I am lying in a cat bed, wrapped up in wool with another woman's hand on my bottom. I hardly think it fitting, do you?"

Hermione blushed hard.

"But Minerva...it's just a bit of fun...people will see the funny side, that's why we did it." Molly ventured.

"Yes, and besides, like people aren't gonna bat an eyelid at you duelling naked with a student. You're worrying over nothing."

As Minerva became more rigid, Poppy stamped hard on Rolanda's foot.

"Not helpful!" she hissed.

"Former student." Poppy interjected, trying valiantly to diffuse even a little of the tension. "And it's a charity thing, Minerva. People do all sorts of things for charity that they wouldn't normally ever consider! And it is funny, because they've seen you as a cat first...it's a LOL moment."

Despite the situation, Hermione snorted. The school nurse really was surprising her more and more. However, Minerva shook her head sharply, not rising to Poppy's blatant attempt to distract her with questions about the strange Muggle term. She was nervous of the whole idea again, Hermione knew, and this was the only way she knew how to stop the feeling. She needed control, but Hermione and her still slightly sluggish mind had no idea how to calm her.

"Change it." Minerva said, and folded her arms.

Ginny exploded.

"For God's sake Professor! You know, initially I only got on board with this because it made Hermione happy; then it made my mum happy; she actually stopped worrying about us all for the first time since The Battle. She laughed; you all laughed! And we are going to make the Wizarding World laugh, because this calendar isn't for us, it's inspired by, because of and for all the people that lost their lives, and all the people left behind; and if it meant that we could spend just one more minute with them, I'd parade around Hogsmeade drunk and naked, spitting up fur balls with...with Nargles flying around my head, so no matter what you think of the idea, Minerva McGonagall, you are looking at bloody January!" Ginny Weasley, her face almost matching her hair, stood ramrod straight, facing the Transfiguration Professor, her blazing eyes never leaving Minerva's, every inch of her face daring Minerva to challenge her. Only Hermione stood close enough to her to see the slight tremors running through her body, whether from anger or shock she couldn't tell. It seemed to everyone that hours passed before Minerva's body language changed.

"Damn you, Molly, you've created a mini-you." Minerva stated softly, her eyes not leaving Ginny's though she knew everyone's attention was on them. Her face softened, and she half smiled at Ginny.

"Very well, Ginny. That is 'bloody January'. Making it a wrap, I think."

Ginny let out a whoosh of air, and flung herself at Minerva, who caught the girl in her arms, not sure if she was returning an embrace or keeping Ginny on her feet.

"Thank you," Ginny breathed into Minerva's robe, squeezing her lightly before pulling back.

Minerva tenderly reached out to wipe a tear from Ginny's face.

"You are quite the exceptional woman, Miss Weasley. Not to mention formidable." She pulled Ginny close again and whispered in her ear so that only she could hear.

"Fred would be proud and honoured to have you as a sister, as he always was, and as the rest of your raucous brothers are."

Ginny laughed a little.

"You think?" she asked, knowing it to be true, but needing...a connection.

"I know." Minerva planted a soft kiss above Ginny's ear before pushing her gently away from her.

"But please," she continued louder, "stop taking lessons from your mother; I believe you have perfected her mannerisms to the point where it is quite terrifying."

Molly laughed as she pulled Ginny close.

"Oh, there's no escaping the Prewett blood, Minerva. You should just be as thankful as Arthur is that she is the only girl!"

The rest of the room laughed, and as Hermione moved closer to the table where the photographer was arranging the photos in a rather frantic manner, she caught Minerva's eye and smiled softly at her.

"Thank you." She mouthed.

Minerva moved to stand beside her at the table.

"So...this is it." she sighed, looking over the photos and chuckling softly.

"Yes. Yes it is. We should have the first lot of prints in two days time. I know it was nerve-wracking, but you know, I think I shall miss all the excitement."

"Well, Miss Granger, who says the excitement has to end?"

Hermione quirked her brow at Minerva, who looked ready to respond when a gentle cough came from behind them. Startled, both women jumped, and at the same time looked at their hands in confusion. Whilst standing there, they had linked their fingers. They both blushed simultaneously as a knowing smile graced Molly Weasley's features.

"Celebratory drinks at The Burrow. By midday, if you can tear yourselves away."

Hermione and Minerva stepped forward and spoke at the same time.

"Mrs. Weasley I-"

"Molly I-"

Molly laughed easily.

"Oh please! It's been obvious between you two since you duelled naked. Now there's a story to tell your grandkids!"

"But..."

"Drinks. Burrow. Get ready. Now!"

Hermione caught Minerva's eye and shrugged, then shyly took Minerva's hand again.

As they all trouped out of the Room of Requirement, Sybil grabbed Ginny by the arm and asked in an exaggerated whisper,

"Nargles...you see them too?"

The halls of Hogwarts still echoed their laughter after they'd all left.

* * *

**Hope it's still ok...couldn't write for a while as it demands a happy, slightly crazy mood, and Muggles mean I have been neither...until now *maniacal laugh***

**Another update soon, and for those that are wondering, it will be revealed who is in what month, and some reactions to it...blimey, this story has just run away with me!**


	12. Celebration

As soon as they entered the doorway of The Burrow, they were bombarded. A chorus of congratulations as they were surrounded by people, and an array of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes zoomed through the room, causing many bumped heads and awkward one-armed hugs.

"So!" George bellowed as he grabbed Hermione in a crushing headlock. "As an official sponsor, do I get a sneak preview?"

"Excuse me, as an official _husband_, I think that I should be in with the first look!"

As the troupe of women, plus George, Ron, Harry, Arthur, Neville and Luna finally made it to the living room and accio-ed a glass of champagne each, Molly turned to her son.

"No sneaky peaks for anyone until Friday, the grand launch!" she turned to her husband and added with a sneaky wink. "Except for you. Maybe later."

This time, Ginny's groan was magnified tenfold as Ron and George joined in.

"What about me?" Harry whispered in her ear. Ginny eyed her mother and seized her chance.

"Oh Harry," she giggled loudly, preening against him. "It's nothing you haven't seen before, sweetie!"

The room spluttered into silence. Ron and George were staring death at Harry, who had turned as pale as his arch nemesis had been. Molly rounded on the pair faster than Harry had ever seen anyone move.

"What. Did. She. Say?" she asked, each word becoming more silent, yet crystal clear.

Harry held up his hands; Hermione was amused to see his knees shaking.

"Mrs. Weasley, honestly I...she...we...I mean..._shit!_" the last word came out as a mere squeak, and after exchanging an amused grin with Rolanda, Ginny finally decided to let him off the hook.

"Joke, mum! Now you know how it's felt to be me the last day or so!"

Harry almost fell to his knees in relief as Ron and George rolled their eyes and turned away. It took a few longer seconds before Molly swatted her daughter none too gently.

"Ginevra Weasley, you shall be the death of me!" the look she gave Harry was back to its normal affectionate self, but he realised that in future he wouldn't ever need to remind himself to not overly touch Ginny in front of any of them. Especially seeing as Mr. Weasley still had something of a dubious scowl on his face.

Hermione, taking pity on him, cleared her throat.

"Everyone, I just want to say now, while it's just us, that I really am so grateful to you all for saying yes in the first place...it's been one of the best experiences of my life, being with all of you...I can honestly say that I wouldn't know what to do without any of you. Thank you."

Everyone raised their glasses, silent for a moment; Molly looking at Hermione and Ginny, pride evidently pouring from her; Hermione smiling gently, catching everyone's eyes, finally resting on Minerva's.

"Thank you, Hermione." Minerva said softly, and the rest of the women held their breath as Hermione went to move towards Minerva.

"AHEM!"

Hermione and Minerva jumped, the moment of whatever it could have been gone. Hermione laughed as six pairs of irritated eyes (Sybil was intently studying her champagne) rounded on George.

"Crikey, I haven't even opened my mouth yet!" he said jokingly as Ginny whacked him in the stomach.

"Men!" Pomona huffed. "Flippin' oblivious, the lot of 'em!"

"I'm sorry, George." Hermione laughed, once again raising her glass. "To Mr. George Weasley, proprietor of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, secondary sponsor and advertiser of The Calendar Witches!"

"Thank you, thank you." He took a bow as his mother rolled her eyes. "Now why the bloody hell did you hit me?" he turned to Ginny, who looked between Minerva and Hermione.

"Felt like." she said, smiling.

"Women!" he huffed. "Never understand 'em!"

As the day wore on, more alcohol was consumed, and Molly's marvellous cooking sampled continuously, Rolanda having been banished to the garden to 'create havoc with the gnomes' whilst Molly occupied the kitchen, the conversation got more excitable.

Sybil and Luna were ensconced in a corner; they had already discussed the pros and cons of Nargles, and Luna was now describing the intricacies of her latest adornment, a string of suspiciously tomato-shaped objects around her neck, in the same calm, aloof manner that she'd always used. Hermione smiled as she watched them, her fondness of Luna having grown exponentially throughout the last year, although the girl was still evidently full of surprises. She had never quite gotten over her dislike of Sybil Trelawney, but it had faded to more of a general annoyance, a feeling that she seemed to evoke in almost everyone who knew her, so Hermione had let go of her guilt.

"I believe I have reached a new level of fondness for Miss Lovegood. Anyone who can keep Sybil enraptured in conversation enough to stay away from the whiskey has my unending respect."

Hermione turned to smile at Minerva.

"Even if they are discussing Crumpled Snorckack horns and the divine qualities of humpa-ringed protectulons. More commonly known as tomato vines."

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at the pair.

"Yes, well...I didn't say I'd understand it, merely appreciate it."

"You should appreciate her." Hermione said, suddenly serious. "I know she comes across as...well...a bit loopy, to be frank, but she notices things that often no one else does. Important things. Feelings. And she gives friendship without asking for anything in return. She's happy because she doesn't think she is owed anything by anyone, so she's free. Free enough to make her own choices without influence."

Minerva studied Hermione's face, her eyes sparkling with passion. Well, passion and champagne.

"I know. She certainly is an exceptional individual." Minerva replied softly, no trace of sarcasm in her voice. She took a deep breath before continuing. "And what about you, Hermione? Are you free enough to make your own choices without influence?"

Minerva's face and body betrayed nothing, but in her eyes Hermione could see the trace of anxiousness.

"Minerva," she began quietly, taking her arm and shepherding her to a quieter corner of the living room. "I am alive in part because of you...because of Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna...Dobby, Fred, Tonks...everyone who sacrificed and risked their lives throughout Voldermort's rise and power. So are you. I remember that and am thankful for it every day, but that knowledge would not force me into decisions out of a sense of gratitude or guilt. I know I was your student, Minerva, and I know that must make you feel a trace of guilt, or awkwardness. But I'm not looking to pursue a relationship with you out of some warped sense of loyalty, or because I'm thankful and feel obligated, or because I'm afraid of moving on. I think you're utterly and completely beautiful, inside and out, and every time I see you my heart beats faster and I think I fall in love with you just a little bit more every time. That said, if you don't believe me, or if you can't move past...the past...then I understand, and I respect you and what I hope is our friendship enough to not pursue it. My choice is my own, Minerva. As is yours."

Despite the calm tone that she'd managed to maintain, Hermione inwardly trembled. Then Minerva smiled softly at her, green eyes shining with warmth.

"Hermione...I..."

"GAH! Just kiss her already!"

Minerva spun around, and almost blanched at what seemed like a sea of expectant faces, every pair of eyes screaming 'YES!' at Rolanda's shouted comment. Luna looked on smiling vacantly, as if she'd known all along, even before they'd known themselves, and had no idea why there was so much fuss.

The men; Harry, Arthur, George, Ron and Neville, seemed all at once bemused and perplexed.

"Kiss her?" Ron hissed. "Why the bloody he-ohm."

The air left his lungs as Hermione took Minerva's hand and pulled her in to brush her lips against her own. Then their eyes met and they crashed together in the most searingly hot kiss that all the occupants of the room, save Rolanda, had ever seen.

A loud chorus of wolf-whistles finally broke them apart, grinning giddily, blushing profusely and breathing heavily.

"Molly," Arthur leaned in to get closer to his wife. "A little something you forgot to tell me, hmm?"

Molly smiled.

"Oh, Arthur. You know Minerva. Almost took the Imperius curse to get her to let her hair down, once, never mind admit her feelings. I didn't like to jinx the baby steps."

"I'd say that was one giant toddler foot she used there." George interjected. He swatted Ron over the head, causing his already pink ears to darken further. "Whassamatter, brother?" he asked with an evilly innocent tone.

"They...Hermione...McGonagall...Herm..._McBloodyGonagall_?" Ron's voice became higher and higher, until even Harry had to grin at his friend.

Hermione approached her friends slowly, almost hesitantly. She still held Minerva's hand until Rolanda dragged her off.

"Come on, McBloodyGonagall, let's get you a stiff drink...it might take the edge off the stiffness of other parts, if ya get me!" she winked at Minerva, who even through her continuous blush managed a thoroughly disgusted look.

"You." She said, taking the proffered glass from Poppy. "Are a thoroughly corrupt character, and if my mother were alive, she would not permit me to stay friends with you. As it happens, she's not, so I just want to say thank you, for poking and prodding in all the right places – wait!" Minerva held up her hand, "I'll rephrase that, don't run with it – for giving me the push I needed to 'get over myself.' Even if it was in your own, shall we say inimitable way."

Rolanda grinned. "Inimitable? Another word for 'charming'?"

Pomona snorted. "About as charming as Hagrid after six buckets of homemade mead."

The light bickering continued as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way outside.

Ginny looked from Harry, to Ron, to Hermione, and after a moment, burst out laughing.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she laughed at Hermione's indignant look. "But you just snogged Minerva McGonagall and now you look like you'd rather be facing a herd of stampeding Hippogriffs than us!"

Harry grinned.

"Well," he said, thinking back over the last few years. "It's not like it's totally surprising is it? I mean, you're like two Snargaluff pods! And if you've been giving each other looks like that, well, I can only say that you don't seem to need any good luck wishes from me! Not that it won't take a little getting used to...you know...I mean...well, you know."

Hermione let out a breath.

"Yes, I know. But thank you."

Ron seemed unable to make a sound. Harry tapped him on the back mock sympathetically.

"I...you..._McGonagall?_" his squeak was seemingly permanent.

"Minerva and I, yes, hopefully." Hermione answered, staring expectantly at Ron, willing him to understand. He regarded her with his unique brand of facial expressions, before settling on a rather odd mixture of baffled, happy, embarrassed and disgust.

"Well...I mean. Hopefully, then, you'll be happy. You know. As far as...McGonagall. But don't go sharing any details, ok? I don't think I can stretch that far."

Hermione squealed and threw herself into his arms.

"Thank you thank you." She breathed.

Finally smiling, albeit as he rolled his eyes, he hugged back.

"Should I already be acting the jealous partner?"

Minerva's voice came floating from the doorway as she moved to join the gang. Ron turned pale and he hastily dropped his arms. When Minerva quirked her brow, he took a step back, and let out a little noise that Harry assumed was meant to be a 'no' rather than a squeak.

"Good. Because as I recall, I am infinitely more practiced in the art of Transfiguration than you. I would hate for you to have to wait for a princess to come along and kiss you before you turn back into human form."

She took Hermione's hand, and after a moment of watching the horror play over Ron's face, everyone burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, Ronald. It was too easy to resist. Are you coming back in?"

Hermione and Minerva led the way, with Ron hanging back behind Ginny.

"Mental. What have I always told you? Completely barking, that one." He shook his head, his voice as quiet as he could manage, but his face held a look of pure awe.

"I don't know about barking, but one will certainly be purring at some point, I'm sure."

Ron groaned loudly. He really was too easy, Ginny thought with a smirk. This coming year was going to be quite some fun.

* * *

**How exciting, I cannot WAIT until July...no, not the calendar, the film, part 2!**


	13. Reactions

**_The year in brief reactions..._**

**January** **1999 **– **Recovery.**

January the first rolled around, and the first thing that mostly everyone did after trying to treat their hangover, was to open their calendars. It seemed that a mist of anticipation dangled over most of Britain's wizard population as the picture came into focus.

Merlin had been subjected to a myriad of curses for centuries, some more original than others, but even he would have turned scarlet had he heard the ways that his name was used throughout Britain as the nude month of January was revealed.

"Professor McGonagall? Merlin's saggy left-"

"Draco! We do not use that language in this house. At least now that Bella isn't here...what are you looking at?" Lucius Malfoy looked over his son's shoulder, and then snatched the calendar away.

"Minerva McBloodyGonagall? Merlin's mouldy-"

"Lucius! Not in front of Draco!"

Wordlessly, he handed the calendar over to his wife, who looked shocked for a moment, before smiling wryly.

"Well well, isn't she the cat that got slightly too much cream?"

Ron peered over Harry's shoulder, and then snatched the calendar away from him, his face paling with each passing moment.

"Mum?" he squeaked. Then he violently brandished the calendar underneath Ginny's nose as she entered The Burrow's kitchen.

"Bloody hell, Ginny! Have you seen this? You're naked in bed with Hermione, who's nearly feeling up McBloodyGonagall, and our mother is cuddled up to Professor Sprout!"

"Yes, Ronald, I was there you know." Ginny answered calmly, giving Harry a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the breakfast cupboard. "And she wasn't feeling her up. It just so happened that she fell asleep holding her tail, and Minerva transfigured back during the night."

"H...holding her tail?"

Harry started to laugh.

"I think that may be considered too much information for your brother's delicate self."

"But...and...Hooch is half wearing a leather outfit; mum is _cuddling _Sprout...is the whole world secretly gay?"

It was 5pm on January the 6th when Minerva finally entered her rooms and slumped onto her settee.

"It can't be that bad."

She jumped at the voice behind her, then relaxed again as Hermione rounded the sofa and pressed a mug of tea into Minerva's hands.

"You don't know the half of it. The amount of wool I've confiscated today is nobody's business; I've seen no less than five mice running through my classroom, and several students seem to be out to prove that I will go crazy for catnip. In short, it's been a rather trying day."

Hermione resisted the urge to laugh. She settled on a sympathetic moan, which nevertheless sounded like more of a snort to Minerva.

"Well, look on the bright side, love. At least you've managed to prove that you can keep a lid on your deepest desires."

"To chase mice?" Minerva asked sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow. "I knew that photo was a bad idea."

"That photo," Hermione breathed into Minerva's ear. "Along with the rest, of course, has so far raised £605,000 galleons, and that's only counting the sales generated through Hogwarts, St. Mungo's and The Daily Prophet's auctioning of the signed copies we made."

Minerva gasped as she turned to meet Hermione's eyes, incredulity shining in them.

"£605, 000 galleons?" she echoed.

"Mhmm. I just received an owl from the minister of magic himself. And that's without counting general sales. Not bad, hey?"

Minerva's eyes shone with pride. She quickly stood and scooped Hermione into her embrace. She twirled them both around the room, Hermione's laughs bouncing off the walls.

"You're amazing, Hermione Granger."

"Oh, hush! I bet you'd have given anything to be able to curse me for this at any given moment today!"

"Well..."

Hermione quirked her eyebrows.

"Ok, a few occasions. But that still doesn't detract from your brilliance."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Minerva and pressed their bodies tightly together.

"None of it would have been worth it without you."

"Charmer."

"No seriously; apparently one buyer bid £95,000 galleons for a signed, enlarged version of the calendar specifically to see you. I'd say the thought of seeing you naked has generated at least half the sales."

Minerva quirked her brow and swatted her lightly on the arm.

"Of course that's not the only reason." Hermione quickly added, and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Minerva laughed.

"You are incorrigible."

"Not to mention intelligent...indestructible...insatiable..."

She punctuated each word with a kiss and only stopped when Minerva's knees hit the back of the sofa. She pushed her back enough to force Minerva to sit, and then straddled her lap.

"Incorrigible." Minerva repeated, as she surrendered her lips once more.

**February 1999 **– **Professor Sybil Trelawney, Divination, Battle of Hogwarts Honour.**

"I sense a great sadness about you, my child." Professor Trelawney began her lesson with the third year Hufflepuffs. "A deep, deep feeling of unsettlement."

"That's because none of us can look into our crystal balls without seeing that calendar!" someone in the back quipped.

It was difficult to tell who turned the deepest red; Sybil, or the student who had just realised what exactly he was eye level with.

"Tea leaves next lesson!" she trilled, and everyone rushed to the doors, thrilled at the timely intervention of the bell.

Sybil's hands shook as she opened her private desk drawer and hurriedly took out a package. If she had to endure this teasing, she was determined she would do it without turning into a nervous wreck. As she shook out some of the contents, she was overwhelmingly glad that Hermione hadn't told anyone about their little encounter over her drug use all that while ago. Or that, despite her brains, the woman hadn't thought to search her room for any more. _Not all that clever, is she? _Sybil thought proudly as she took a deep breath, feeling instantly at ease.

At the bottom of the tower, several students frowned. It was nowhere near dinner time, but as they all deeply inhaled, confused, they could swear that the smell matched the one that sometimes wafted through the Great Hall at dinner times.

"Oregano!" a Hufflepuff student shouted triumphantly, then frowned again. Oregano? In Divination? The world was getting stranger.

**March 1999** –** Madam Rolanda Hooch, Quidditch coach/referee; flying instructor, Battle of Hogwarts Honour.**

Four fourth year girls huddled together around the side of the broom shed, a copy of the calendar held between them.

"Here it comes!"

"I told you it'd be her!"

"Wow!"

The image of Rolanda Hooch came into focus, a couple of snitches and Minerva's last minute addition of a Quaffle the only things preserving her decency. She flew about the scene so fast that her Holyhead Harpies socks became a blur of colour, and it was impossible to make out the finer details of her body, much to the disappointment of the girls, who had eagerly noticed the initial abandonment of the balls. They were so engrossed that they didn't notice a figure peering over their shoulders until a loud clearing of throat made them all jump. Rolanda Hooch nodded in satisfaction towards the calendar. She headed towards the door of the broom shed before she turned and made sure the girls saw her cast an appraising eye over her own body.

"Baywatch material, I'd say ladies."

She smiled to herself as she heard the shocked gasps and then the round of giggling begin as she disappeared into the shed.

**April 1999 – Professor Pomona Sprout, Herbology, Battle of Hogwarts Honour**

Neville entered Greenhouse three to get the Mandrakes ready for the second years. As well as completing his NEWT's, he was acting as a general apprentice to Professor Sprout, who after a shaky start, had identified his natural talent for Herbology and was determined to see his ambitions realised. He made sure everything was in place, double checked – it was Gryffindors and Slytherins, after all, and even after The Battle of Hogwarts, old habits die hard – as quickly as possible, and then headed to the small office area attached to the greenhouses. He barely managed to keep his excitement in check as he made a beeline for the calendar that hung on the wall, now depicting a rather tired-looking Rolanda Hooch almost letting her Snitches slide. Grinning, he flipped the page quickly, and waited with bated breath for the few moments that it took for the picture to come into focus.

"Professor Sprout!" he gasped, almost dropping the calendar as his face turned a deep red. He cocked his head slowly to the side, his ruddy face by now almost displaying intense concentration.

"Blimey!" he muttered, studying the photo from all angles. "I never knew broccoli could be so intriguing!"

**May 1999 – Quidditch Practice, R. Hooch, G. Weasley**

"Mum! MOLLY!" Two voices simultaneously reverberated through The Burrow, before a thundering of footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Molly calmly continued beating her eggs in the kitchen as George and Arthur came bursting into the kitchen, both clutching copies of the calendar.

"Mum!" George started, his eyes twinkling, "Have you seen Ginny?"

"More to the point, Molly, have you seen Ginny and Madam Hooch?" Arthur said, his expression nowhere near as jovial as his son's.

"It's a naked calendar, dear, what do you expect?"

"They really did this?" George was beside himself, a sly grin threatening to erupt into laughter. He thrust the calendar under her mother's nose. "Yes, George, and really, I was there, I don't need to see-"

Molly stopped abruptly as she took in the scene playing out in front of her.

"That..._woman!_ Honestly!" Molly's egg beating became even more vigorous. "Behave, I told the pair of them...turn your back for _one _second..." her features darkened so much that Arthur was completely positive his presence wasn't needed anymore. He backed out of the kitchen, pulling George with him, as Molly Weasley's voice filled the whole of downstairs. They had no doubt that the whole of Hogwarts would be privy to that Howler.

"GINEVRA WEASLEY!" Ginny paled considerably, and she had to stop herself from turning around to check that her mother wasn't actually in the room. "HONESTLY! NAKED YOU SAID; FINE I SAID; NAKED WITH THAT HARRIOT YOU SAID, FINE I SAID...NEVER _NEVER _COULD HAVE ENVISIONED..._THIS! _ONE MINUTE...I TURN MY BACK FOR ONE MINUTE!_"_

By now, the whole school had seen the calendar shot, whereupon after trading practice shots with each other, Ginny had surreptitiously glanced to some unseen distance, manoeuvred her broom above Rolanda's and feigned a hit by a bludger. She mock fainted off her broom and landed on top of Rolanda, leaving the woman no choice but to hold on to her lest they both tumble to the ground. Both women had again glanced to an unseen spot and burst into giggles.

"WELL, AT LEAST YOUR MODESTY IS STILL COVERED, I SUPPOSE, BUT THAT IS COMPLETELY BESIDE THE POINT! YOU...YOU'LL TURN ME GREYER THAN ANY OF YOUR BROTHERS EVER HAVE!"

Just when she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the howler focused its wrath upon the staff table, where Minerva, Poppy, Pomona, Sybil and Hooch all reflexively shrunk back.

"AND YOU!" Molly continued, this coming out in such a snarl as to make even Minerva cringe, "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT YOU WOULD TRY TO CORRUPT MY DAUGHTER...BEATEN TO HERMIONE, LETS TRY GINNY INSTEAD...WELL, _MADAM_ HOOCH...HANDS OFF, DO YOU HEAR! HARRY IS AUROR TRAINING NOW!"

Ginny couldn't resist a snort at this thinly veiled threat.

"AND IF I CATCH ONE LITTLE SNIFF OF EITHER OF YOU TRYING TO WIND ME UP FURTHER, I'LL HAVE _YOU _OUT OF HOGWARTS, AND _YOU_ DE-GNOMING MY GARDEN EVERY WEEK FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" The howler turned to glare at both of them, the resemblance to Molly uncanny; a faint echo of George's parting "lesbians are the in thing, mum, honestly...your fault, I suppose, letting her brawl with all us boys..." could be heard before it exploded violently. The hall was silent for minutes, until Minerva cleared her throat.

"Yes. Well. Quite. Nothing to add, Madam Hooch?"

No one had ever seen Rolanda lost for words, and when Sybil was the first to tentatively giggle, as if testing the waters, pretty soon most of the Great Hall joined in, along with wild speculation about what exactly Hermione had gotten up to.

**June 1999 – Duelling, M. McGonagall, H. Granger**

Hermione slowly crawled back into her bed, shivering slightly. Spring had not yet graced Scotland with its warmth in the early mornings. Smiling, she gladly curled up next to the woman who had been sound asleep next to her.

Minerva woke with a shrill scream. Hermione chuckled.

"Hermione, that is evil! You're freezing!"

"And you're toasty warm. Didn't your parents ever teach you to share?" Hermione wrapped her arms tighter around Minerva, causing the other woman to hiss.

"Fine! But don't move again until you warm up."

"But then I can't show you what I got out of bed for."

Minerva said nothing.

"I think you'll like it." Hermione coaxed as she planted a kiss on Minerva's chest.

"Oh, go on then." Minerva finally relented.

Hermione let her go and reached to the bedside table where she'd placed her copy of their calendar.

They watched the scene unfold, neither tiring of watching the other. They went to look away as the scene finished, only for the black mist to dissipate and for them to reappear, locked together in the heated embrace that they'd shared after transforming back. Hermione gasped and Minerva blushed.

"I haven't seen that bit before."

"Nor me." Hermione breathed. She caught Minerva's look of horror. "You don't think..."

Minerva's hand covered her mouth. Hermione held her close, trying to hide her own rising panic. Granted, most everyone now knew about them, but for the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts to actually be seen in that position...at that moment there was a tap on the window. Hermione gave Minerva a reassuring squeeze before rising to let the owl in.

She read the parchment quickly, her frown quickly dissipating into a laugh.

At Minerva's frosty glare, Hermione quickly read it out.

"Dear Hermione and Minerva,

(_Put_ _Herminerva..._why..._it sounds clever, like 'Bennifer, or Brangelina'..._who?..._nevermind...)_

Excuse Rolanda. She likes this confounded muggle contraption far too much. I think Arthur mentioned it was called a Confounder actually.

Anyway, we decided you needed something a bit more special to remember our experience by, so we got together with Mr. Grant who kindly made a special edition including your...brief dalliance. We hope you like it. And Minerva, dear, stop panicking; you are the sole owners of that particular scene.

All our love,

Mollanda

(_No! It doesn't work like that..._whyever not?..._because the two have to be a couple!..._oh I see, so like Garry?..._Garry?..._Ginny and Harry - Garry..._Merlin preserve us, come here on Google..._Google? Oh, is that-_NO!)_

Hermione met Minerva's eyes and they both burst out laughing, relief visible on both their features.

"You know what occurs to me?" Hermione asked as she sauntered back to the bed, floating the parchment over to her desk nearby.

"What, pray tell?"

"It occurs to me that we haven't finished this particular scene."

Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no?"

Hermione shook her head as she slowly climbed onto the edge of the bed.

"I could have sworn..."

Hermione cut her off.

"No no. Not this month, anyway." And she pounced on Minerva in a move worthy of any lioness.

"Incorrigible," Minerva managed to mutter before she surrendered herself completely.

The room was silent. It couldn't have been more still if someone had cast a silencing and immobilising charm. Harry blinked. Then blinked again. The image still played before him. Ron opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out.

"Well..." Harry was saved from any further conversational attempt by the entrance of Arthur Weasley.

"Boys!" he greeted them jovially. Receiving no reply, he took in their expressions and saw Ron shakily back into a chair, his face a strange strawberry/cream mixture, a look of comic tragedy on his face.

"Ah. You've seen this month's shot then I take it."

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Quite something, isn't it? Ron?"

Ron opened his mouth again and this time succeeded in creating a squeak.

"She's...oh, bloody hell, she's going to kill me!"

Arthur looked baffled. Harry shrugged, signalling his confusion.

"Who, Ron?"

"McBloodyGonagall!" he groaned loudly then and covered his face with his hands. "'tgetawayfromitandshe'shottoo!"

Harry snorted.

"I think, Mr. Weasley, that your son is slightly perturbed and horrified at seeing Minerva McGonagall naked and finding that she is actually attractive. Add to that Hermione, and Minerva's jokingly issued threat, and it's sensory overload, I think."

"Ah."

Ron nodded dumbly. Harry handed him a chocolate bar after tearing off a chunk for himself.

"It can't be right! I mean, they're both really bloody attractive!"

"Always the tone of surprise, Ronald."

Hermione's arrival had gone unnoticed until now. Harry and Arthur jumped, and Ron choked on his chocolate.

She shared a smile with Harry, who couldn't help but blush.

"Minerva's outside." She said. "Is it safe for her to come in?"

Ron turned scarlet and even Arthur looked away.

"Does she have to?" Ron whined, his eyes pleading. "Can't she wait until...maybe...July?"

"That's Ginny!" Hermione said brightly. Ron and Arthur groaned and visibly paled, as Harry begged his body not to blush.

"Minerva!" he hurriedly called. "Come on in!"

**July 1999 – Ginevra Weasley, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin 3****rd**** Class (1998) Battle of Hogwarts Honour **

"Wow." Harry breathed. He had eagerly flipped the page of his calendar, knowing that his girlfriend was up next. His eyes sparkled as he watched her sunbathe, then elegantly, if a little mischievously, dive into the lake. He watched her splash about, laughing, and couldn't stop his smile from spreading.

"Jealous of the Giant Squid, Potter?"

Harry jumped a mile at the resounding boom of the voice.

"Kingsley! Yes...I mean no...er..."

Kingsley laughed, tapping Harry on the back.

"Your girlfriend, Harry...she got style. Just don't let Mr. Weasley catch you ogling, hm?"

"Which one?"

"Does it matter?"

Harry gulped audibly and quickly settled the calendar back on the wall of the auror office he also shared with Ron. It was probably best for diplomatic relations if he kept his back to it as much as possible, he thought.

**August 1999 – Mrs. Molly Weasley, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin 1****st**** Class (1998), Battle of Hogwarts Honour**

"You're mum has lovely buns, Ron."

Ron turned to glower at Luna, and was about to retort, when she carried on, offering the plate to him.

"I mean, she gets the texture and the consistency just right...don't you think?"

Harry and Ginny tried unsuccessfully to smother their grins.

"Ye Luna, whatever. Can we not talk about my mother's buns at all, please? Floaty light or otherwise. Not today. Not the rest of the month. Not ever would be good. I've heard enough today to last a lifetime."

They heard a faint pop and within seconds Arthur had appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, hello everyone! And where is my darling wife?"

At the sound of his voice, Molly appeared almost instantaneously, giving him a warm peck on the cheek.

"I had the pleasure of bumping into Rolanda Hooch earlier on during my dealings with a rogue broomstick and a rather unfortunate rear end of a muggle...she informs me that she had immense fun touching up your buns." He raised his eyebrows as the children looked on, shocked.

"I bloody well knew it!" Ron hissed to Harry. "What did I tell you...the whole world, turned gay!"

Molly laughed and pulled her husband close enough to wiggle her body against his.

"You are the only toucher my buns perk up for."

Harry and Ginny couldn't stay shocked for long; Ron's face begged to be laughed at.

**September 1999 – Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts, Transfiguration Master, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin, 1****st**** Class (1998) Battle of Hogwarts Honour**

Minerva McGonagall sat in the Great Hall at dinner time on the 1st of September, and tried to ignore all the furtive glances that she was receiving. She had had to suppress a laugh when an enormous amount of first years turned slack-jawed upon realising that the esteemed Professor McGonagall that they had all heard so much about, and the nude woman in the calendar, were the very same. However, after having to almost physically move the students that hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, and now dealing with the rest of the school discussing her, she had had enough. She was just about to leave the staff table when her owl came swooping into the hall and landed elegantly on her arm that had outstretched almost unconsciously. She grabbed the parchment, noting with intrigue the official ministry seal, fed the bird a scrap of meat, and waited until most of the attention that she could hope for had left her before opening it.

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_I must first congratulate you once again on the success of this calendar, but particularly this month. I am writing to inform you that as of nine am this morning, we have received no less than 200 applications from witches and wizards of various ages and talent to begin animagus training. _

_Coincidence, you may think; however let me enlighten you as to how many applicants we have had in total since your own training ended (I trust I don't need to remind you of how many years ago). 10, Professor. 10 applicants in all those years. _

_Personally, I am glad that more of our community are taking an interest in furthering their abilities, however I am informed that at least one applicant comes under the following; underage; Squib; under qualified; criminal record._

_I apologise for having to resort to this, Minerva, however I have little option; the faculty assigned to deal with this are threatening mass walkout as more owls are arriving every hour. Therefore, I must inform you that all correspondence relating to 'animagus' is being rerouted to your office. Anything you deem of relevance you can forward to us at the ministry...anything else is yours to respond to._

_Kind Regards,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt,_

_Minister for Magic_

Minerva snorted, earning her the attention of several members of staff.

"Fan mail?" Rolanda asked over Flitwick's head. "I've had plenty."

"In a manner of speaking." Minerva answered as she folded the letter into her robes.

"Can't say I blame them." Flitwick muttered, spooning potato onto his plate. He looked up when the table went quiet, not realising he'd spoken aloud until he took in Rolanda and Minerva's raised eyebrows. "Yes, well, I mean, it's only right to show one's appreciation of fundraisers, isn't it?"

"Quite." Minerva stated, dispelling the staff's curious glances, and halting what was bound to have been an inappropriate comment by Rolanda.

"Wow." Never normally at a loss for words, Hermione had to settle for using one she normally dismissed as overused. She stood in the entrance to Minerva's office, the normally neat desk buried under at least 10 precariously balanced piles of letters, with more on the floor.

"Hermione, thank goodness."

"Minerva?"

Minerva's exasperated face popped up in between two piles.

"Thanks to my month of the calendar, it seems that half the Wizard population want to become animagus; and the other half...well, suffice it to say they are appreciative of my moves and would like to see more." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would appreciate some help?"

Hermione smiled as she pulled up a chair on the other side of the desk. She skimmed through several letters and her snorts descended into outright laughter.

"You won't feel like that after another half hour." Minerva said darkly as her quill scratched rather violently into one reply.

Half hour later and Hermione had to agree.

"How's this reply?

_Mr. Zeckowski,_

_I understand that you went to a lot of effort to procure the calendar, what with being recently released from Azkaban and whatnot, however I must inform you, with no amount of regret, that no, Professor McGonagall is most definitely not available for personal tuition or indeed personal performances, especially not for you. It takes an extraordinary amount of self-discipline and control before even contemplating becoming an animagus, attributes which, by the sheer tone of your letter, it is obvious that you do not possess. And if you write again, or even voice your thoughts on what, exactly, Professor McGonagall should 'not' wear next and with whom, then I can assure you that you will be back in Azkaban in a full body bind curse before you can even blink._

_Yours threateningly, _

_Hermione Granger._"

Minerva tried to contain her mirth.

"Perhaps a little too hostile, do you not think?"

"Hostile? Some of these people are downright perverse!"

"Mmm, so I've noticed. Amazing the things that people seem to think they can do with catnip, honestly. "We could go wild together; I could be your kitten...shall I continue?"

Hermione pulled a face as she left her chair and rounded the desk.

"We'll send a universal reply: Minerva McGonagall shall not be teaching anyone the finer points of animagi...and Hermione Granger is the only one that she is wild for. Kind Regards...Herminerva."

Minerva laughed as she grabbed Hermione and pulled her down for a kiss.

"It works for me. However, the letters were addressed to the ministry; it's only fair that people receive a reply signed from them, don't you think?"

**October 1999 – Hermione Granger, Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin 1****st**** Class (1998), Battle of Hogwarts Honour**

"Hermione got a letter!" Ginny squealed as she peered over Hermione's shoulder in The Three Broomsticks. Hermione held it out of her reach, but Madam Rosmerta appeared and snatched it away.

"_Dear Ms. Granger_," she read, her twinkling eyes making sure she had the attention of everyone gathered; Hermione, Ginny, Minerva, Ron, Harry, Neville, Luna, Molly and George. "_I am currently ensconced in a rather dilapidated wing of Her Majesty's Prison Stafford, awaiting rescue by the ministry (I would be grateful for any assistance you could offer in this matter; although perhaps I would be better off writing to your other half, who seems more influential-"_

"Other half?" Hermione huffed. "I am a whole person, thank you."

"I think he meant to write 'better half' anyway, considering his 'more influential' statement..." George trailed off as he was confronted by fierce glares. "Not ready to joke about it yet, then."

"_Anyhow, I am writing to tell you how very impressed I was with the sheer size of your-"_ Rosmerta stopped abruptly, unwilling to continue after having seen the thunderous look on Minerva's face.

"Of?" Ginny prompted, even as Ron violently shook his head.

"Of your Gryffindor scarf." Rosmerta said hurriedly, shoving the letter back into Hermione's hands.

For various reasons, the group simultaneously took hefty swallows of their drinks.

"So, Prof...Is Hermione's Gryffindor scarf really all that impressive?" George asked.

Molly shoved him in the ribs as Neville and Ron both turned bright red.

"The scarf was rather long, wasn't it? Although I'm sure that's not what you're really enquiring about." Luna said seriously.

Minerva's mouth twitched.

"I daresay it's not, Miss Lovegood. Hermione's scarf is something that I shall not be discussing in company...civilized or otherwise."

"I was hoping to influence people's intellect with the scene, not their libido's." Hermione grumbled.

Ginny opened her mouth, but just then the fire that they were sat next to burst into life and the flames morphed into a lioness, flames licking and snarling at the occupants of the table. When it dissipated, Minerva, Hermione and Luna were the only ones still seated where they had started. George had been pulled practically on his mother's lap; Harry had Ginny in a protective headlock and Neville and Ron were rather embarrassed to find themselves clinging on to each other. Minerva smiled satisfactorily. Molly huffed, exasperated.

"Blimey, Minerva, you're going to be the death of me!"

"Yes well," Ron said, dislodging himself from Neville with a rather awkward manly pat on the back, "I think it signalled end of discussion. No need to talk about the calendar anymore...that right, Prof...Minerva?"

Even though the comment was borne from sheer embarrassment on his behalf, Hermione beamed at him. Minerva smiled softly.

"Quite right, Ronald."

He smiled, relieved, until Minerva added with a wink.

"There is only one place that this lioness should be heard roaring, and it is most certainly not here."

Even Luna smiled at his reaction.

**November 1999 – Madam Poppy Pomfrey, Mediwitch, Battle of Hogwarts Honour**

"Minerva! Minerva!"

Minerva whipped around at the sound of her name being shrieked down the corridor.

"Poppy, what on earth is _wrong_ with you?"

Poppy eventually caught up with Minerva and, panting, thrust a copy of the calendar right under her nose.

"LOOK. At. That. RACK!"

Minerva gaped at Poppy, and whirled about to check the corridor for students.

"Poppy really! You've seen it before. I rarely stoop to using student-isms, but you have got to get a grip!"

Poppy grinned wickedly.

"Oh, believe me, my good friend; someone will be getting a grip of something the next time I get a break from this place. Have you seen me? I think I'm a new woman!" and without another word to Minerva, Poppy began to trot away again, vaguely muttering about Rolanda and running for money. Minerva shook her head. Sometimes she wondered if she really was the only pillar of sanity left.

**December 1999 - everyone**

"Bloody hell!" George exclaimed at the same time that Ron opened his mouth. "Oh, look, I'm a ventriloquist!"

At that moment, Arthur entered the kitchen of The Burrow.

"Dad! Have you seen this? Mum actually had a food fight. As in, used food. _Her food_, in a _fight._"

"Don't remind me." he said darkly. "I had to eat stuffing for weeks after that; she got it into her head that it wasn't tasty enough, and that's why she hadn't minded. As if I'd tell her it was anything less than perfect anyway, given past experiences!"

Ron caught his father's eye and they shared a sympathetic look.

"What do you think of it?"

"I think it's sweet, and very...normal." Ron said with more than a trace of relief. At the odd looks he received, he shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms defensively.

"What? It's Christmassy! And...just...you know..."

"Less naked?" Harry prompted.

"Yes!"

"So we're unattractive?" Molly asked, appearing suddenly, as people were prone to do upon awkward moments of discussion involving them.

"WHa-no!" Ron hastily protested. "I mean, you're not attractive, you're my mother; it...oh, _balls to it." _he folded his arms tighter across his chest and sat down by The Burrow's dinner table with a huff.

"That's what she said!" Ginny giggled, pointing at Rolanda, whose figure was streaking about trying to hit anything with her flying baubles.

"Goodness!" Neville exclaimed as he and Hermione stood in the Herbology office, looking at his calendar. "Was Professor Trelawney quite safe up there?"

Hermione thought back to the events of that day and smiled fondly. "Safer than she would have been on two feet, I daresay. That's why we had Poppy sat down quietly too...well, initially." She amended, as within the image the food as well as Sybil began to fly.

"It looks like you thoroughly enjoyed...I sometimes wish I could have joined in." Neville said, smiling. Hermione laughed, and then abruptly stopped. It was as if a light bulb had snapped on in her head.

"Neville," she began, a predatory smile beginning, matching the glint in her eye. "Neville, Neville, Neville..."

He started to back away, holding his hands up frantically waving.

"No, I I didn't mean...no no no..."

But Hermione continued to advance on him, with a menace that both Minerva and Snape would be proud of.

She would have a men's calendar sorted by Christmas Day, she was sure.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue (because I couldn't resist!)

**Christmas Day, 1999**

Hermione had been awake for hours; she had noted the pile of presents on the chaise longue on her side of the bed, and at first had been itching to open at least one. She'd forced herself to make some tea, and was now contentedly snuggled back in bed, watching Minerva sleep. She was absurdly happy, she realised, but she could not bring herself to care. It was the first Christmas that she had truly felt relaxed; it really was an indescribable feeling, she thought, to be able to just relish the simple act of being without anyone expecting anything from you.

She sighed happily as she thought about the woman that lay next to her, in their bed in Minerva's bedroom, where Hermione spent almost every weekend. It was their first Christmas waking up together, and Hermione was determined to make the most of it.

"You think too much." Minerva mumbled as she stirred.

Hermione smiled.

"You were sleeping."

"It was noisy." Minerva retorted, turning slightly so that she could curl into Hermione's side. Hermione had been delighted to discover Minerva was a cuddler. She loved waking before Minerva in the mornings just so that the disturbance would cause Minerva to snuggle further into her.

Hermione put her arm around Minerva and stroked her hair down her back.

"It was happy. Merry Christmas."

Minerva smiled, and planted a soft kiss on Hermione's side.

"Merry Christmas."

"You know, just because you've said it, it doesn't mean that you get to go back to sleep." Hermione nudged Minerva, who groaned.

She grudgingly sat up a little higher, but couldn't help a smile as she saw the twinkling in Hermione's eyes.

Wordlessly, she summoned a package from the chaise and handed it to Hermione.

"Open this one, impatience. I hope it'll keep you in bed for at least a few moments longer. Merry Christmas."

Hermione felt the thin, oblong package with glee, before starting to rip off the wrapping. As she pulled out the present, her jaw dropped.

"Oh. My. God! OhmyGOD! Minerva! AAAAHAHAHA!"

Hermione pulled Minerva close and squashed her tight. Just as abruptly, she let her go and opened up the calendar, flicking through it with something akin to maniacal affection.

"Minerva! How...when...oh you're soo unbelievably _gorgeous_!"

They embraced once more, their lips meeting over the calendar Minerva McGonagall had made especially and only for Hermione Granger:

_The Twelve Beautiful Views of Minerva McGonagall (eleven artistically decorated and a little 'lift the flap' for December)._

The End!

* * *

**A huge thank you again to everyone who read, but mostly those who also reviewed...it means a lot x**


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